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vicorices · 19 days ago

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★ cupid carries a gun.

open up your skull, i'll be there climbing up the walls.

cw # 18+ mdni, modern au, mentions of marijuana, dealer+loser!ellie, blink and you miss a slight pervert behavior, sub!reader, switch!slightdom ellie, pussyslapsyum, pet names, fingering, public sex.

wc: 4.9k (idk how this happened) // request more ellie shit pls.

the first time she saw you, she called you bro by accident.

it happens unexpected. ellie's been selling weed for a while now and she's used to get random text messages from unknown numbers: a friend of a friend, a recommendation from some old client — of course when she got your text you're not going to receive special treatment, not when she greets you like she would greet a guy, asking you where to meet since the club's big.

you're friends with cat, that's how you got her number. your usual provider is being insane with ridiculous prices you cannot afford not even by chance, so you're searching for someone else, a reliable source you can buy your weed from without getting into much trouble.

she’s perfect for the job.

it's a surprise either way when you tell her to meet you close to the main stairs in the first floor, and you think you saw her by the time you get there, but before you can approach your phone lights up with a new notification from an unknown number you now recognize.

you like it, making them think you’re a man, confuse the people you buy weed from. it's funny cause it's not the first time it happens, matter of fact, it's really common as you approach the auburn haired girl, noticing she's far less intimidating than your last seller, less tattoos on the face to instead, be covered in freckles and green eyes.

and to ellie — it's clear you aren't a bro too.

you don't pay much attention since it's a quick interaction, but to ellie its enough to make her spiral. too much weed, too much booze that night made her look at you like you're most beautiful girl out there, barely illuminated by the sporadic lights that changes time to time as you approach to her in a nice top of a band she also hears.

"hey. sorry to make you wait" you're too kind to her rough heart, yet from up close she's able to look at your face properly: where the fuck did you know cat from? why she hadn't seen you before too? was she hiding you from her?

"ellie," she presents herself like you do and she's almost a little shy to ask you to walk with her to a less crowded space, cause it sounds different from when she usually asks, slapping herself mentally for being so lame when she meets a pretty girl in a situation like this: don't be a fucking pussy. "do you mind if we move to a quieter place?"

"no, no problem" you reply "i was going to ask you the same, actually. don't want to get kicked out from here."

and you must be really trustful person, cause ellie could be a bad person and you're following her willingly, entering a dirty, small bathroom only to lock the door beneath her not really knowing her true intentions. you know she's not going to do anything when she's nervously speaking to you as the space got way reduced.

"so, you're friends with cat" what's she even doing? trying to pull off some small talk she sucks for? either way your nodding as ellie gives you a small bag with an smiley face on it, letting you see the weed she's going to sell you out first — "you study here in this university?"

"yeah, it’s my last year" you say inspecting the weed with a pleased look, sure you're buying when you take a deep breath and it seems like actual weed and not a fucking rock so tight it seems it came in somebody's ass, good smell, some purple there between different shades of green "film school."

"sick," she looks at you for a moment since you're too busy looking at the product. under the white lights ellie can see the details on your face now, the small moles, the scars, things she wasn't aware of as she wasn't so close as she is now — "it's okay? you like it?"

“smells real good, my last supplier was pretty shit and always had the same strain" you find her concern cute, sure she must take pride in selling good stuff, maybe that's why cat shared her number so reluctant to it, you'd gatekeep a good dealer too.

“that’s lemon haze” ellie explains as a subtle layer of red spreads right over her nose, must be the weather inside the bathroom or something like that, but it's hot as she stares at your eyes and she's betting you must be thinking she's the weirdest girl in the planet. her flannel's too fucking tight, too thick. "it's a nice sativa, wont leave you stupid nor like a hungry animal."

girls like you may be out of her league, but even when ellie's brain saying the same, it does not matter when your fingers brush against hers and you're laughing at her bad joke, giggling like she's oh so funny and it's enough. it may be a tactic she's falling all the way in when saying a lower price than regular and your eyes widen cause you don't believe it: why would such a good quality be cheaper than the usual shit?

"you study in this university too?" you curiously ask as if you're trying to catch the trick, clever girl. she’s selling you cheaper to secure you.

"forensic science" you seemed a bit surprised by it since you didn't talk much to stem girls in general, being in two different fields: hot— "it’s my last year too."

"that sounds cool, never met someone who study that," you say as you're pulling out 20$ for at least 3 grams of top-graded-weed: she's fucking stupid for selling that quality for less than $30 "well nice to meet you ellie, if i don't get poisoned with your weed, you'll be definitely hearing more from me."

and she wants to say something flirty, something with her usual witty charm and her sarcastic replies she loves by heart, but instead of saying something clever, ellie ends up stuttering, tripping in her own words as she nods.

"i- uh- yes sure. save my contact and text me anytime."

fuck it, cause it does get her to know you'll be talking to her again someday, maybe this week, maybe the next, tomorrow. her weed is hella good and her own brain is feeding her delusions cause as far as she knows you might as well be the biggest heterosexual girl in university, but you're there waving her goodbye with a warm smile and your perfume lingers in the air for a while even when you're not there.

so ellie stays in the cubicle for a minute. the longest minute of her life when she takes a deep breath at the scent, discovering the fruity notes, the damn strawberries sweet as ever now impregnated under her nose.

fucking cat cause she must have kept you all to herself, pure selfish reasons — ellie thought they were in good terms.

it's crazy to say she would've done the same if you were her friend too.

the second time ellie sells you weed you're talking with your friends seated in a secluded spot of the main quad and the sun hits your skin just in the correct way to make her mouth go dry.

you're using this straight sinful sundress in blue and white, covering from the fresh air in a denim jacket and it looks so good she needs to check you actually messaged her in the first place and didn't imagined the whole thing.

she politely greets everyone but her attention drifts back to you when ellie's sitting close like you're friends with her before the people you’re hanging out with.

"was it good?" she asks, blatantly checking you out you're resting over your elbows, letting the exposed parts of your body fill out with vitamin d after being trapped in class for what it seems an eternity, and ellie feels trapped too, slightly different cause she's experiencing the victorian era on the flesh when only a glimpse of your ankles is enough to kill her — "guess it was if you're texting to meet up again."

"yeah, seems like you got the best weed in the whole place" you laugh, each time warming up to her as you reply under a pair of black shades that make you look so fucking attractive: her weed, the best. "good job, ellie."

awfully good price. outstanding for you, only loses for her.

the third time, you're meeting her outside class and her friends joke calling you her girlfriend as ellie quickly walks away hoping you didn't hear them: do you talk to her about dinosaurs too, williams? you're too polite to say you find it cute.

by the fifth time you're on her car and the silence is so damn loud as the music sound softly in the speakers, some song you say you like as ellie turns up the volume so you can hear it better. you're humming to the tune, a two-minute song as she pretends to be searching for the weed on her bag, taking more time on purpose.

"are you going to take the same three grams or you feel generous this time?"

"no, just three" you reply to her question. you've become quite aware of her consistent gaze on you now after weeks of selling you grass, personally giving you the best, making the moment linger without you noticing until you actually do catch on her subtle tactics— "that way i can text sooner and see you again this week."

ellie’s clueless most of the days but with that? anyone would notice you're flirting, blatantly as you look up to her and your dealer struggles to resist the need on her hands to pin you against the passenger seat and lean all over the console to go on and kiss you until you clearly state what you want. no playing around the bushes this time. demand, as her stomach turns, what do you mean by that.

do you want to see her more? that's why you buy three grams and talk to her every three or four days? are you, by any chance, not straight?

“if you want to see me during the week, you might just ask” ellie says mirroring your tone “like you ask to buy weed from me, s’not that hard.”

you’re the one who's nervous now, and she considers on giving you the weed as a gift before you’re paying. loses, you only mean loses in her economy at this point — and it's driving her hella mad when you get out the car and ellie’s left there with the need to have you as closer as you possibly agree to.

silk fabric slipping through her fingers.

the sixth time, ellie decides she's going to do something about it. about her needs. there’s no actual way you’re not flirting with her, the image of you in the passenger seat still sealed freshly on her mind even if it was a week ago, repeating it over and over again — you got her staring at your profile pic, debating if she can or cannot masturbate with the pictures you’ve shared on instagram from spring break in fucking california, liking your post cause it’s the only way she dares to interact, a way of saying she’s there.

in the middle of a saturday night, thinking about you. two in the morning and it’s all fucking you.

she should make up her mind. you’re a good buyer, and she wishes to keep it that way. you don’t ask for later payments, you constantly buy and don't share her number with weirdo friends like everyone else does, you're a reliable source surely: so why does her heart stops in her chest cavity when her phone's buzzing and ellie's reading the name she saved your contact with?

right. her pathetic crush on you.

her fingers move on their own before she considers to delay her response five minutes to seem busy.

she wont charge you double.

shit. it's two in the morning and she's selling you weed driven by the desire to see you again, using this gray hoodie to protects herself from the cold autumn breeze as she's pulling up to this party totally uninvited, passing the open door like it's her own house as zeta phi seems to be fully loaded now as the music sound loud and strident as all her hopes of catching you alone goes to the trash can.

no she’s not going to charge you double, she’s just guilty she’s so into you without you having any idea of it.

where you waiting for her arrival? fuck. her brain is acting up like a backstabbing bitch and ellie cannot help it as you appear radiant under a sea of people. you're not saying a word either when you're lacing your fingers with her's and you're pulling on your dealer upstairs, feet moving on their own as she don't make a single effort to resist your magnet-like influence in her very self.

ellie’s hand are sweaty cause she's so fucking nervous but you don't seem to care about it, looking back at her from over your shoulder only to offer a smile she cannot wrap her head around for a moment.

"can i ask where you're taking me?" she questions you, hoping her voice doesn't sound like that really, so strained and rough from just see you around — "or am i your hostage now?"

"we need a more private space to buy" you state like it's obvious "duh, the rooftop's empty. i stole the key."

ellie should've know you were a walking hazard.

cause it really seems like an achievement when you're opening the rooftop door, mischief grin as you look twice behind your back paranoid as ever someone can see what you're doing; and ellie chuckles at the sudden adventure, how you're closing the door when you invite her to step in with a subtle head movement, quickly shoving the key back to the pocket in your skirt.

cute. she thinks you’re cute.

it's empty like you said, and the knowledge makes every hair on her arms stand on their own even when she's wearing this thick hoodie that protects her from the cold.

"cannot risk my dealer of getting in trouble down there" you explain now that you can talk to her at a decent volume, and she fully eats it even when it's a clear lie and you're making up excuses to get her away from the noise.

"very kind, gonna name you my knight in shinning armor if you keep this up."

you're panting the spot right next to you as you take a seat in the over-used lounge chair with a tiny wooden table in front of it, and like a trained animal, ellie follows cause it's the perfect spot to leave her backpack as her brain keeps buzzing at the name you used to call her seconds before— my dealer.

she is, by all means, your dealer. it makes her chest fill out with a different kind of emotion, sound so fucking intimate, so nice.

"gonna buy the usual three grams, princess?" your knee brushes against her, and ellie's breathing hitches cause you're wearing this black-sheer stockings all the way to your upper thigh and she becomes aware of it when the material slips down as you're seated, skirt raising slightly upwards against the muscles of your legs: one movement and she swears she'd be able to see your underwear and ellie has to once again, remind herself how you quickly reduce her to this behavior; this state, shoved in a sea of pure filth — "or did you just call me because you wanted to see me tonight?"

she's feeling lucky tonight even when she never feels that way, a strike of confidence ellie feels as a rush on the blood: you give her a sight of your legs and now she's all over the damn place? loser behavior.

"is it that obvious?" you want her to kiss you. it's a need that installs deep down in your chest, and if you're not making it obvious by then you're definitely doing it now: you're not straight, you're not bulletproof to the holes her eyes make on your skin every time you have the pleasure to be left alone in her company, you're not giving up on this constant game of seduction you like to play "i'm buying weed too, so coming up here actually matters for you."

"haven't we state that already?" ellie asks, looking up to you as she drinks in the sight of you under the almost invisible light of the stars up in the sky "if you want to see me during the week-"

"might as well just ask" you completed for her as ellie grabs her bag so she can pull your weed from it. the best three grams she has in her power "i know that- thank you."

"it's a gift" she finally dares to say it now — "don't pay me this time."

has she ever felt this way before? never. the overwhelming pull, the reminder you're not her's? stings on ellie's skin like tiny needles. it's not a big deal, once again she's losing money all reckless, but fuck- it's worth it, worth it when ellie see you malfunction for a long moment, brain short-circuiting cause you don't expect it.

"that's not the deal."

"i don't care what our deal is, you're my best client, and i take care of my clients” it’s simple as she says it “sides. the weed does not matter, seeing you was payment already.”

"don't go yet," you add before she's making a movement to get up, hands cold wrapping around her arm as you pull her down to the lounge chair you're so comfortably seated — "smoke with me. let's talk for a while."

and she knows it's dangerous, but you're batting your eyelashes, looking at her with this sly smirk on your face she wants to kiss away and ellie has no option but to stay there buried in your side, your fingers still tight against her arm muscles as you make her stay.

"okay, but i need you to let go of me baby- i can't roll a joint with you all over."

liar.

she just want to see you get all flustered because of her as her fingers swiftly roll a joint without much effort, allowing the smoke to fill the air seconds after before you’re sneezing and she notices how you shiver on her side, turning her face to look back at your pretty face she’s been avoiding to stare so much.

"you cold?" she asks, and you do not want to admit it, but ellie's taking her hoodie off and it's a fucking sight when she's wearing this white tank top she does not care about until she can physically feel the shift of the air between you and her, caught up with your eyes checking her out as she lights up the joint.

"thank you," and for being a stoner, it's smells surprisingly nice as you relish on the warmth of it, comfortable now as you watch her smoke "i'll gave it to you downstairs."

"go home with it. you're going to catch a cold like this."

the silence it's imminent for a moment before she's passing you the joint an you're holding it between your fingers.

"i like your tattoo" is it also an excuse? not really, but ellie's bringing her arm closer to you as she's showing it under the flashlight of her phone cause she likes it too, showoff — "can i touch it?"

any other time she'd be denying it mumbling something stupid about hating random people to go on and touch her scarred arm but you're not a random girl. so she's whispering a barely audibly yes, and your fingertips are tracing the pattern etched on her skin, taking your time in doing so.

"it suits you," you praise as you touch, and she's fucking melting there under simple caresses, under something so simple as your fingers tracing her inked flesh, invisible shapes as you just want to keep your hand on her "did it hurt too much when you got it done?"

"yeah, sort of" it's not really like she's trying to sound cool, in all honest, she's just trying to be coherent now as you keep touching her skin as you smoke. invested in questions she's answering in full auto-pilot.

you're high after a while, and it's her weed that makes you look like that. half lidded, a lazy smile on your lips as you keep talking to her, red eyes, slower than ever: shit. she'd devour you all.

“have you ever shotgunned smoke into someone’s mouth?” you ask curiously, and the question comes out of nowhere as you stare at her blowing the smoke, a warmth creeping upon her neck as she notices the way you’re staring at her, ellie’s blushing.

selling you weed and not be able to get high with you every single time must be named one of the most horrible crimes in humanity.

“when i was like, 17?" ellie replies thinking for a moment "i dunno, thought it was the hottest thing ever- have you?”

“no, not really."

and to be fair, ellie's high too. she's testing a new strain with you and the words roll out of her tongue so easily she has no time to regret it, not when you're looking at her like you want her to get handsy there in a damn lounge chair, to hell if it’s in the middle of nowhere or not.

“want me to do it for you?” she asks, a gentleman as usual “i’ll gladly be the first.”

it takes a moment for you to consider it before your voice is all low and husky — "mhm."

“come here then miss,” ellie says using a finger to call you out, the joint already on her lips before she takes a long drag — “sit on my lap and open your mouth f’me.”

it's devastating.

your weight on top of her, your ass in her leg as she can see again, those transparent sheer stockings that must be damn useless against the cold, and her hand rest on your upper thigh there where she looked before.

you're so obedient. your skirt is a sinful invitation to touch further, and you're parting her mouth for her so she can get closer, and as she smokes, ellie does get closeto you. closer than she’s ever been — more than the car, the bathroom in the party she met you, mere inches before she's shotgunning the smoke in your parted lips and you're smoking from the same weed that was in her lungs.

"17-years-old ellie was right" you reply, not really moving to give her space as ellie's fingers squeeze your leg like a reminder you're there still, sated on your dealer's lap, her hands on you — "it is the hottest thing ever."

it's almost a chronicle of a death foretold, cause ellie's kiss does not surprise you at the slightest. it's demanding and sloppy cause she's high, you're high, and she's a victim of this force she cannot escape near you.

so she keeps on kissing you until your lips are swollen and you're simply there, slowly wanting more, squeezing your legs together cause you don't want to be a slut now — no. you don't want her to know you're soaking over a few kisses, at ellie's fingers pulling on your high stockings down till they are no longer there anymore.

"you're a fucking menace" she says between kisses, breathing heavier now by the seconds: ellie already noticed— "a menace to me, to my weed and my economy, you know that? how you make me sell out my stuff at half the price cause i want you as my secured client?"

despite her words, she's pushing you closer to her so you can feel her rib cage pressed against you, the goosebumps you produce just from being close to her, red lips and messy hair.

"it’s your loss ellie, cause i'd pay for the full price."

"mmhm well shit, you're really lucky cause you do give damn good kisses" she murmurs, fingers toying with the hem of your skirt now and she has the damn audacity to keep on smoking cause she's now confident on her effect, how you’re all affected by her touch — "and if you give damn good kisses, i'm betting all my money that you have an even better pussy for me."

the sounds you're making? fuck. she’s creaming her panties already when you're letting her touch you so freely and it’s not near enough.

"what is it going to be then, huh?" she asks curiously, her mouth already following the path down to your collarbone, your cleavage before she’s taking her time in leaving red-purplish hickeys there hidden beneath her own gray hoodie "should we make it to our seventh selling or you're going to let me play with your needy cunt as a much deserved reward?"

shit. shit. shit. you're so fucking wet when you're parting your legs further apart to give her a nice view of your underwear, a damp spot already there between your legs who’s enough to make her mouth water with the thought of burying her face between your thighs, intoxicate with the smell you're emanating and she feels already under her nose.

good fucking girl. she wants to praise you, let you know you're doing a great job there letting your skirt roll up to your stomach, so easy to get rid of it ellie's sure you did it on purpose now so she can let her hand slip between your legs to feel how soaked you are.

your cunt makes this sound when her finger’s taunting you she just happens to love, and your underwear clings to your pussy lips, hips buckling up to meet her fingers already wanting more.

greedy.

"shh-" she tries to reassure you — "you're comfortable there baby? want you to feel good when i touch you yeah? you'll let me know anything cause you're my well-behaved girl, aren't you? my best client here.”

ellie’s making you shake her head, coaxing you to say out loud you are comfortable there, ass in her lap, spread legs as her fingers push against the fabric right against your entrance, noticing how the cotton soaks at the motion.

"look at you all desperate" she chuckles — "have you been thinking about this a lot like i do?"

her fingers pull on your underwear to the side and there it is: glistening cunt, swollen lips and neglected clit that's just begging to be touched, filled, discovered by her hands, her mouth, tongue. nothing she fucking wants more.

who she is to ever deny anything to you? to stop selling you weed? the joint falls to the ground now as she's using her entire hand to touch you, fingers rubbing against your minor and mayor labia, circling against your engorged clit as you arch your back and she has to use force to keep you still, taking what she has to give like a champ.

"you're fucking soaked-" there's a slap sound that fills the air, and even when there's people in the garden they don't seem to hear your whimpers as her hand comes in contact with your pussy and she's slapping it once again, just enough to apply some pressure in your clit, just enough to make your legs shake "so responsive to me, gonna let me stuff this cunt full tonight? fucking finally huh? you've been haunting me like no one else."

and you giggle, giggle cause you cannot fucking believe it: fucking your dealer? are you so for real right now? you're deep under a cloud of haze you're unable to control, disheveled state when your skirt is all the way to up and your underwear being pulled to the side at her mercy and you can only answer:

"yes- ngh yes please ellie."

"shit- your clit is all puffy baby, all needy for me."

you're squeezing her already so hard when she’s working on you. a wet schlick that fills the air and combined with your incoherent words of praise and moans will send her to the grave.

ellie’s knuckles-deep and fuuuck. you're so tight she needs to ask if you're doing right, cunt engulfing her' fingers until there’s no more and she's curling them right to the spot so you don't care about the drunk fucks in the garden anymore, about anyone who can hear whats going on in an empty rooftop.

ellie’s using a hand to keep your legs spread when your free will collapses like paper cards, pulling them apart only to add a third finger in your used hole and reduce you to pieces now, clenching tight as she rubs on that special spot inside and you're mumbling something about feeling so full, so good with her inside.

"this pussy must be made for me baby, fits me like a fucking glove," ellie’s doubling her efforts, her palm colliding against your clit, fingers thrusting against the right spot over and over — "gonna let me see your pretty face when you cum? i know you're close."

you are. fuck you so are. your movements are erratic, your legs shake, and ellie's kissing on your shoulder, leaving a path of wet kisses on the exposed skin on your neck, biting on your earlobe, anywhere she can get.

"i can't-" you cry out, moving yourself in quick, sharp movements, it’s overwhelming — "fuck i can't hold no more-"

"let go" she replies, holding you tightly against her body — "let go. i got you."

it's hot. messes up ellie's jeans with a damp mark on them, turning the fabric darker when you finally cum and you're gushing on her fingers, leaking through trembling legs.

"fuck yes. drench me like that," your dealer moans, stealing a kiss from your parted lips, keeping the last glimpses of air in your lungs for her benefit "use me, baby, don't stop."

ah. ellie's in trouble after all, cause it don't seem she’ll be selling weed to you now. not when she's mixing business with pleasure and she's making you bend against the top rail of the old lounge chair cause she's not able to wait any longer to lick you clean until you have no other choice but to cum again.

truth be told she once heard cupid's cruel, but she didn't believe it fully, not until now since ellie knows, first hand — the little fucker shoots to kill.

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slut4megantheestallion · 7 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ Sfw & NSFW Dating Nicholas Chavez Headcannons

●Sfw

- He is such a cutie patootie, he's such a good boyfriend, lover, friend anything. he acts very shy whenever he is around new people, but when he's with you, he's completely different and more talkative, and he's such a golden retriever type boyfriend.

- Very affectionate, he loves physical touch and just cuddling and hugging you, whenever he comes from a long day working on set, the first thing he would do Is come home to you with open arms, making you feel safe and loved, giving you alot of hugs and kisses.

- He checks up on you alot of the time, whenever he's far away from home when he's acting for a role in a movie or show, he's quick to ask about how you're doing and give you all the details about his day.

- You're his biggest supporter you always encourage him and cheer him on whenever he's acting for a role, you even help him to stay in character, you two out watch movies together or just find information about his character and have so much inspiration, he loves talking about his favorite actors and tv shows with you and you never get bored of it, you find it adorable how he talks about his idols and how he's inspired he is.

- he's has a lot of nicknames for you, like he's such a loving and caring boyfriend, he likes calling you names making you feel loved and cherished by him, but his favorite nicknames for you are "babe, sweetheart, baby."

-This man is so affectionate he loves posting you on his Instagram and showing the whole world how much you mean to him, photos of you two kissing, laughing, and holding hands together.

-He takes you on a lot of trips. like he takes you around the world just exploring anything that's new. He usually doesn't have time since he has a very busy schedule,but when he does have time, he will take you out. He just likes seeing you happy, having a fun time, and experiencing new things and cultures, which makes him love you even more, making memories together that he will remember in his head.

-He loves helping you out with stuff, even when you insist not to. he still does it anyway. He's the type that will get you something when you can't reach it. He likes giving you piggyback rides or just carries you when you're tired.

- he loves spoiling you or just buying you anything. He likes taking you shopping and picking out stuff you like or reminds him of you. When he's far away from you and comes home from work, he gives you gifts,he brings you items like clothes, jewelry, scented candles, flowers, even though you tell him it's not necessary if he gets you gifts, you love him gift or no gift.

- he likes taking you on cute little dates, like going out to eat, concerts, or cafe, but if you don't wanna go out together, you like staying together, cuddling, watching a movie.

-He's so overprotective over you. He gives off big spoon type vibes since he's getting popular and his fans are crazy over him. If anyone talks bad about you or just hates on you, he'll shut it down real quick so you wouldn't feel bad about yourself. He doesn't care if anyone had anything to say about being with you he'll stick by your side.

-He's very goofy. He loves making you laugh or just saying corny jokes, playful banter and jokes, or randomly dancing, or putting on a show for you whenever you're bored. Well, you're never bored since you're with Nicholas he's your source of entertainment.

- cooking or baking together, which usually ends up good or just you two playing fighting and throwing stuff at each other, making a big mess, he likes seeing you cook, he loves your cooking and he's just amazed and likes watching how the food turns out.

- going on set with him, seeing him in character, and meeting his friends and co-stars.

-Sweet random texts: messages of him reminding you how much he loves you and your the only thing that's on his mind.

-He likes sending you memes or funny stuff that you and only him find funny.

-He makes a playlist about you with all of the songs that remind him of you, and he shares with you how much you mean to him.

- he likes taking you to the beach and just walking together and collecting sea shells or just looking at the ocean and how the ocean is pretty like you are.

●Nsfw

- this man has sex with you every minute, hour, second, every morning, night, day, besides doing cute stuff with you and showing his love towards, sex Is also one of his way through affection, whenever he's out of town you would take sexy pictures of yourself sending it to him teasing you, and all he can think about his ripping your underwear and just fuck you so hard.

- he has sex with you anywhere honestly, the living room, kitchen, couch, bathroom, whenever you two are he had to have you , he craves you for your touch, telling you how much you love him, and you need him.

- I feel like he's down with whatever, whatever your into he's into.

- he most definitely talks you through. His voice is so calming, he likes praising you or just saying little things when he's having sex with you.

"God, you're doing so well for me, baby~"

"Please, I can't take it anymore. Taking me so well, such a pretty girl~"

- size kink

-he's a huge tease, just like seeing you beg for him.

- he most definitely needy and whiny in bed, especially when you give him head or riding him.

- very vocal

-His favorite position is missonary he loves the way you're beneath him, seeing you squirm for him .

- making out all the time

- slow, passionate kisses

-he's very vanilla, but he can be very rough if you ask him to.

- you like leaving hickeys or marks on his body, and you think he looks so sexy on his body.

-lots of aftercare, he loves taking care of you after sex.

(Authors note: I know I haven't been active lately because of school or writing in general but finally I am, I hope you guys enjoy, I am super obsessed with his man he's so fine... enjoy the edit at the end.)

#nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #Nicholas Chavez x black reader #Nicholas Chavez x black!reader #Nicholas Chavez x poc!reader #he's so fine #white boy of the month #He's so boyfriend material #Spotify #Nicholas Chavez x poc reader

939 notes · View notes

pbaz7 · 3 months ago

Text

FLIGHT 2136: PART 4

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content

word count: 8.6k

A/N: This really somehow turned into a series lmao. God bless ✈️ anon. I’m thoroughly enjoying writing this one and I’m excited to see where I can take it next. Anything specific people wanna see?? Leave live reacts and comments if you can 🫶🏼🫶🏼

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After that night their conversations become effortless and automatic. What was once occasional text over a span of a few days here and there now turned into good morning messages, updates throughout the day, and late-night conversations that stretched longer than either of them intended.

Azzi quickly learned that Paige wasn’t actually that bad of a texter–when she wanted to be. It just took a little extra effort. Sometimes, though, she still slipped up, forgetting to reply for hours. When that happened, Azzi would call her, barely waiting for Paige to pick up before saying, “Text me back, genius.”

Paige would mumble out a sheepish, “My bad,” rubbing her eyes. But then, everytime without fail, she’d add, “You look pretty today,” her voice turning soft.

Azzi would roll her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile before hanging up.

A few seconds after hanging up, Azzi’s phone would buzz with notifications from Paige—each one carefully addressing everything Azzi had mentioned. It was clear Paige was paying attention, making sure to answer everything, even if it was something small like, "I just got Dairy Queen!" or "I found that song you were talking about."

The Facetimes, once a source of mild resistance from Paige, quickly became something she didn't mind at all. She didn’t grumble about how she didn’t like them anymore. Instead, Paige would simply answer and just prop her phone up and go about whatever random task she was doing, talking with Azzi as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Whether it was shooting in the gym, organizing her room, or just lounging around, Paige would keep the conversation light, letting Azzi watch her move through the motions of her day. And even on days where Paige wasn’t the most animated during their calls, a little spaced out, Azzi could still hear the underlying affection in her voice when she did say something—the way her words were always just a little softer compared to when she talked to everyone else, a little more personal.

Azzi found herself completely captivated by how Paige’s personality started to shine through in their everyday conversations. At first, Paige had always come across as a bit reserved, quiet, especially when surrounded by others–and honestly she still was. But in their moments alone, whether it was through text or FaceTime, Paige’s true colors began to emerge. Azzi had never expected her to be this way–honestly. Paige was a little obnoxious at times, cracking jokes that made Azzi laugh out loud, even when she tried to keep a straight face. Paige could be playful and sarcastic, the type to tease Azzi for the tiniest things, but it was never mean-spirited. It was endearing.

But what Azzi adored most was how gentle and observant Paige was. It was like she had a way of noticing the smallest details, even when she didn’t say anything about them. Whether it was how Azzi would get distracted by the simplests things, or how she picked up on subtle changes in Azzi’s mood, Paige seemed to have this innate ability to read between the lines.

The way these traits blended together–Paige being confident that was borderline cocky at times, a little obnoxious, funny, yet so thoughtful and perceptive–shouldn’t have worked as well as they did, but it was perfect. It was her. And Azzi was starting to realize just how much she loved it. There was something about Paige’s complexity, the contradictions of her personality that made her unique. With every conversation, every little moment, Azzi found herself falling for Paige Bueckers.

Paige didn’t know the exact moment she fell for Azzi. Maybe it had been the night after the USC game, when she sat there in the hotel room, unraveling a part of herself she had never shared with anyone before. When she told Azzi about the accident—some of the details, the conflict she felt all the time, the way she had spent so long resenting the world for what happened but thanking God that it wasn’t worse. And instead of offering empty words or hollow reassurances, Azzi just was—solid, there asking Paige what she needed instead of offering up what she thought she needed to hear. Somehow, within seconds of laying it all out, Azzi had brought her peace. A kind of peace Paige hadn’t even known she was searching for with a simple story about cutting her little brother's hair.

Or maybe it was in the hallway that same night. When she admitted she’d miss Azzi, the words feeling heavier than they should’ve. And Azzi, instead of overcomplicating it, just pulled her in, giving her something to hold onto, a quiet reassurance.

But then sometimes Paige thinks it was the next morning. When Paige, still groggy, had opened her door to find Azzi standing there in full UConn gear, clearly about to leave the hotel. Paige had barely mumbled out a good morning before Azzi stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, like it was the most natural thing in the world and handed Paige a coffee, as if she knew that the blonde didn’t sleep much that night.

So yeah, Paige didn’t know the exact moment she fell for Azzi Fudd. But she knew that she had and she knew it happened when she was in California. She knew that she liked how Azzi made her feel. How Azzi made the world seem a little brighter. Like sunshine and rainbows as Paige would often sarcastically say when Azzi told her to cheer up.

Right now Azzi was lying in her bed, her phone propped up against her pillow as she absentmindedly toyed with the drawstring of her hoodie. Paige, on the other hand, was sitting at her desk, hunched over doing—well, Azzi wasn’t sure what exactly.

Azzi narrowed her eyes at the screen. "So, how was your LSU visit?"

Paige snorted, not even looking up. "It was alright."

Azzi raised a brow. "Alright? So… no?"

Paige finally glanced at her phone, looking at Azzi before smiling a little saying, "Not my vibe, is all."

Azzi smirked, shifting onto her side. "I feel like you say that about every team except UConn."

Paige leaned back in her chair, smirking right back. "Maybe I said it about UConn too. I just wouldn’t tell you."

Azzi’s jaw dropped at this. "That’s rude."

Paige just shrugged, clearly unbothered as she went back to whatever she was doing at her desk.

Azzi squinted at her. "What are you doing over there?"

Paige huffed as she leaned back in her chair again, throwing her pencil down on the desk. "I’m trying to do a sudoku."

Azzi snorted. "Why?"

Paige shrugged again.

Azzi’s lips curled into an amused grin as she propped herself up on one elbow. "Since when do you do sudoku?"

Paige groaned, dragging a hand down her face before resting her chin in her palm. "Since today. And probably not after today."

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. "Let me see."

Paige picked up her phone and angled it toward her desk. The screen showed a sudoku puzzle that looked… well, disastrous. Numbers were scratched out at the bottom, some squares had been filled in and erased multiple times, and at least one spot had what looked like a tiny doodle in the corner.

Azzi covered her mouth to muffle her laugh. "Oh my God."

Paige rolled her eyes but smirked. "Okay, mathlete. Relax."

Azzi grinned. "Do you even know the rules?"

"Yes, I know the rules," Paige said. "I just don’t know why there are so many numbers."

Azzi blinked. "Paige… that’s literally the point of sudoku."

Paige let out a deep sigh, tilting her head back. "See? This is why I don’t try new things. I need to just stick to dribbling a basketball."

Azzi hummed. "What’s got you trying new things, then?"

Paige shrugged as she pushed back from her desk and stood, stretching her arms above her head. Azzi watched as the hem of Paige’s shirt lifted, revealing parts of her toned stomach. She hadn’t meant to stare, but—okay, maybe she had a little.

Paige smirked, catching the way Azzi’s gaze lingered. She picked up her phone, bringing it closer to her face. "You’re a pervert."

Azzi scoffed. "I literally didn’t even do anything." But there was a slight smile on her lips, giving her away.

Paige dropped back onto her bed, lying on her side with one arm propped under her head. "You didn’t have to," she mumbled, eyes locked onto Azzi’s through the screen.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, shifting onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands. "Oh? So now I’m just guilty by association?"

Paige’s smile deepened. "More so guilty by intention but sure."

Azzi let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head. "You’re actually the worst sometimes."

Paige tilted her head. "Am I really?"

Azzi caught the shift in tone, the playfulness turning into something a little more intentional. She pressed her lips together, debating for a second before deciding—fuck it.

"Mhm," Azzi hummed, trailing a finger along the edge of her phone as she watched Paige closely. "But I think you like it that way."

Paige licked her lips, her gaze flickering over Azzi’s face. "Maybe."

Azzi bit her lip, her voice turning softer. "You’re a little smug for someone who just got roasted over sudoku."

Paige grinned. "Mmm course I am, look at how you’re lookin at me."

Azzi exhaled a short laugh. "You’re so annoying."

Paige’s smirk didn’t waver as she said, “No I’m not."

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the way her cheeks warmed. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"I could give you a few ideas."

Azzi blinked, her breath catching just slightly. Paige was really pushing it now.

She swallowed, tilting her head. "Oh yeah?"

Paige nodded, her fingers idly playing with the ring she always wore on her finger. "Mhm. But I think you already know."

Azzi let out a slow breath as she shifted. "You sure you can handle me?"

Paige huffed out a chuckle as she licked her lips. "I think I already showed you I can handle you just fine, Azzi."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her stomach flipping at how Paige was looking at her through the screen—like she knew exactly what she was doing, exactly how she was making her feel.

Azzi bit her lip, her voice softer now. "I miss you."

Paige’s expression softened just slightly, but then, before Azzi could get too caught up in the moment, Paige smirked again. "You’re just horny."

Azzi’s eyes widened, her mouth parting in shock. "Paige!"

Paige just chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. "What? Am I wrong?"

Azzi narrowed her eyes, though the warmth creeping up her neck betrayed her. "You’re disgusting."

Paige propped herself up on her elbow, tilting her head as she studied Azzi through the screen. "I’m just saying… you’re looking at me like you want something."

Azzi huffed, shifting onto her back as she threw an arm over her face for a second before peeking at Paige again. "And what if I do?"

"Then I guess I’d have to do something about it next time I see you."

God, Azzi wished she hadn’t asked that question because now she was warm and uncomfortable, and the worst part was—she knew Paige knew. The way she was chuckling on the other side of the screen, made Azzi squirm even more.

Azzi groaned. "Paige, please."

Paige hummed, all teasing. "Hm?"

Azzi hesitated, debating whether she was really about to ask for help with her… situation, but before she could get the words out, there was a knock on Paige’s door.

Paige’s head moved toward it, her smirk fading slightly. "Yeah?"

The door creaked open, and Drew peeked inside. "Can I sleep in here tonight?"

Paige’s expression shifted instantly—her playfulness replaced with something softer, more serious. She sat up, nodding without hesitation. "Yeah, course." She scooted over on her bed, making space for him near the wall.

Reaching for her phone, she looked down at the screen, her gaze apologetic. "I’m sorry, I gotta go, I’ll text you in a sec."

Azzi shook her head, completely understanding. "Don’t apologize."

Paige gave her a small, grateful smile before they both hung up, leaving Azzi lying there, staring at the ceiling—still warm, still uncomfortable, and now, very much alone with the feelings.

Or at least she thought she was alone—until her phone buzzed a few times.

Azzi grabbed it from beside her, her brows raising slightly when she saw Paige’s name on the screen. She unlocked her phone, and the second she saw what Paige had sent, she felt her stomach tighten.

The pictures weren’t anything too overly suggestive, but they were enough.

Some were mirror selfies—Paige’s sweats low on her hips, her stomach on display, a sports bra the only thing covering her top half. Others were clearly taken after being in the gym, her skin still slightly flushed, her hair damp, the definition in her arms pronounced.

Azzi chuckled when she got to the last one—a hand pic.

All the pictures were followed by a message. "Get yourself right."

Another buzz. "I'm sorry I couldn't help. I got you next time."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her entire body warm, her face buried in her pillow as she groaned.

Somehow, even when she wasn’t physically there, Paige still had her in a chokehold.

Still, Azzi followed directions. She sighed, shifting against her sheets, wishing—aching—that it was Paige’s hand instead of her own.

…

Back in Minnesota Paige lay still beside Drew, both of them staring up at the ceiling, their arms thrown behind their heads in near identical positions as they laid in silence for a few minutes. It was almost uncanny how much they looked alike when you really looked at them, their features reflecting off one another from the dim glow of Paige’s bedside lamp. Drew had gotten older, taller, but in moments like these, Paige was reminded that he was still her little brother—the same kid who used to follow her around with wide eyes, hanging onto every word she said.

The silence stretched between them, Paige figuring Drew was just taking a while to fall asleep. Then, Drew said something.

“That girl you’re always talking to,” he started, his voice quiet but still confident, like Paige had taught him.

Paige turned her head slightly, already knowing where this was going. “Her name’s Azzi,” she corrected, a small smirk playing on her lips.

Drew hummed in acknowledgment. “Is Azzi the reason you’re leaving?”

Paige blinked, caught off guard for a split second before she turned her head to look at him. She studied him for a moment, the way his brows furrowed slightly, waiting for her answer. With a sigh she said, “You know how when you were younger and we always talked about you coming to my games when I got to the league?” she asked.

Drew simply nodded.

Paige exhaled, glancing back up at the ceiling. “That can’t happen if I stay where I’m at now.”

Drew was silent for a moment before he mumbled, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

Paige let out a quiet chuckle. “You and Dad are moving to the DMV. I’ll be one call away, I swear.”

Drew turned his head, watching her carefully before he finally asked, “So you’re going to UConn?”

A slow smile spread across Paige’s face as she nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna go to UConn.”

Drew studied her for another moment, then asked, “Have you told them yet?”

Paige sighed, shaking her head. “No, not yet.”

“Why not?”

Paige turned her head to look at him again, a different kind of warmth settling in her chest. She smirked slightly before answering. “I gotta tell Azzi first.”

Drew’s lips twitched into a grin as he turned onto his side, finally facing the wall to go to sleep. But not before adding, “You like her, huh?”

Paige rolled her eyes, but the smirk never left her lips. “Man, shut up. You’re supposed to be in here going to bed.”

Drew just laughed as he pulled the cover over his head to go to sleep.

Paige grabbed her phone from the nightstand, her fingers lingering over it for a moment before unlocking the screen. She chuckled softly when she saw a message from Azzi sent just three minutes ago. The message was simple, just a “Thank you.” Paige huffed out a quiet laugh when she saw the period.

She quickly typed out a response, her fingers moving without hesitation: Yup. After a brief pause, she added one more message, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she typed: Goodnight beautiful.

She read it over once more, her heart skipping just a little at the words before she locked her phone and set it back on the table. Paige turned off the light and settled into bed, pulling the covers up over her.

She stayed still for a while, her hands tucked behind her head, staring out the window that was across from her bed. The sudden quietness of the room seemed to amplify the thoughts racing through her mind, each one more tangled than the last.

She couldn't help but think of Drew, her little brother, and the way he'd come crawling into her bed tonight, like he’d done so many times before–seeking comfort from the chaos of his own thoughts. Her heart ached just thinking about it. She’d been around for every significant moment of his life, his constant lifeline, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty for leaving him behind, even if it was for the right reasons.

But then, as if the universe was constantly reminding her of the duality of her life, another thought would emerge: the weight of her future, the pressure to fulfill a dream she’d been chasing since she could walk. She wanted to go back to the notoriety she used to have, not because of the attention it gave her, but because of what came with it—the ability to give her family the life they deserved, to give back. To provide for Drew, her dad, her mom.

Paige sighed softly, her body sinking deeper into the mattress, as she tried to will her mind to quiet for just a moment so she could fall asleep. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, but the thoughts kept coming. She knew it would take time, a lot of effort, and maybe even more sacrifice to make everything fall into place. But for tonight, she just wanted a break from the weight of it all. Just a few minutes of peace. She closed her eyes, exhaling a long breath as she tried to empty her mind, willing herself to relax.

It wasn’t long before another thought slipped into her head—Azzi. This time, instead of adding weight, like everything else, it brought a sense of comfort. Azzi wasn’t like anyone else in Paige’s life. Thinking about Azzi didn’t tighten her chest or add more confusion to her already overwhelming thoughts. When her mind drifted to Azzi, everything else seemed to fade into the background. Because she knew Azzi didn’t expect anything from her. Azzi wasn’t asking Paige to be anyone but herself—she didn’t have any preconceived notions about who Paige used to be. The girl on the other end of those late-night Facetimes only knew Paige from what she’d shared. The thoughts she had were based on the present, not some past version of Paige.

That was the thing that should've terrified Paige. She wasn’t used to feeling so... seen, without the weight of what others thought she should be or the pressure of always having to do the right thing. Azzi didn’t ask for any of that. The simplicity of their connection, how natural it felt, should have sent her running in the opposite direction, a voice in the back of her mind telling her it was too easy, too comfortable for the kind of world they lived in. They hadn’t even had a serious conversation about what they were or what they had going on—and yet, Paige didn’t worry about it.

She should’ve been terrified of how she felt about Azzi already–it had only been a few months. But for some reason, anytime she thought about her, the only thing Paige felt was calmness. She rarely thought about it if she was being honest. It just felt right. Everything about Azzi felt... right. Like the pieces of her life, of their connection, were meant to fall into place in the way they had.

As Paige lay there, still, her mind slowing down for the first time that night she couldn’t help but smile a little. The thought of being around Azzi all the time, physically being with her instead of having to hear her voice through a phone. Being able to physically touch her. It all seemed too good to be true, but Paige didn’t worry about that—she thought just maybe that the universe was finally repaying her.

Third Person POV - March 2024

After taking a shower Paige sat on the edge of her hotel bed, the soft glow of her phone illuminating her face as she idly scrolled, waiting. The room itself was silent, but Paige’s mind was buzzing with anticipation. She knew it was only a matter of time before Azzi texted her or called. It always happened that way after games.

She leaned back against the pillows, letting out a slow breath as she glanced at the time. UConn had won their Sweet Sixteen game against Duke earlier that night, and unknowingly to Azzi, Paige had been there to witness it. She had come down with her dad and Drew, who hadn’t seen UConn play in person yet. The three of them had seats in the stands, and while it felt strange watching from far, Paige loved the experience.

Her dad and Drew were sharing a room down the hall, while she had her own. Now, alone in her room, Paige found herself sitting, waiting—because she knew Azzi would reach out. Azzi never let too much time pass without talking to her.

Right on cue, her phone buzzed. “You up?”

Paige chuckled to herself, shaking her head before typing out a response.

Paige 💗You a 16-year-old boy now?

Azzi’s reply came almost immediately.

Azzi <3 Lol I’ll take that as a yes

Paige smirked, stretching one of her arms over her head before texting back.

Paige 💗I was waiting on you

Azzi <3 Oh yeah?

Paige💗Yeah.

The typing bubbles appeared for a moment before disappearing, and then suddenly, Paige’s screen lit up with an incoming FaceTime call. Her smirk deepened as she swiped to answer, settling back against the pillows.

When the call connected, all Paige could see was the bathroom ceiling, but she could hear Azzi’s voice.

"Why are you always flirting with me?"

Paige laughed. "Cause you like it."

"No, I don’t," Azzi shot back, but there was no real conviction behind her words—it was clearly a lie.

Paige raised an eyebrow, playing along. "No?"

"No," Azzi repeated, but Paige could hear the slight waver in her voice.

Paige chuckled. "Why not?"

There was a pause before Azzi mumbled, "Because all it does is make me sexually frustrated."

Paige smirked at that, biting her lip before saying, "Lemme fix that for you, then."

"Paige, please," Azzi groaned, still off-screen.

Paige chuckled. "Please what?"

"I really can’t handle that today," Azzi muttered. "I won’t be alone for the next week, and I already feel like I’m about to explode."

Paige hummed, amused at Azzi’s frustration. "That’s not a problem."

She heard Azzi groan again, making her chuckle. "Azzi, come to the camera."

There was a beat of silence, then a soft shuffle. A few seconds later, Azzi finally appeared with a towel wrapped around her, clearly fresh out of the shower.

"Where are you?" she asked, scanning Paige’s unfamiliar background.

Paige tilted her head slightly. "My hotel room."

Azzi's expression was filled with confusion. "What? You’re done with visits."

Paige grinned. "That’s what I been tryna tell you." Then, more sincerely, she added, "You played great today, by the way."

Azzi smiled at the compliment before quickly piecing together what Paige was saying. "Wait—you’re here? In Portland?"

Paige simply nodded, watching as realization dawned on Azzi’s face. A grin spread as soon as the realization sank in.

"What room are you in?" she asked, her voice carrying an excitement that wasn’t there before.

"617," Paige answered smoothly.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. "I’ll be down there soon."

Paige hummed in response as Azzi hung up the phone.

A few minutes later a sharp knock at the door shocked Paige a little, but she didn’t hesitate when she got up to answer it. She swung it open without even checking the peephole, already knowing exactly who was on the other side.

Before she could fully take in Azzi’s appearance—her damp hair, the cropped shirt she must’ve thrown on in a hurry—Azzi rushed forward, crashing their lips together.

The kiss from Azzi is urgent and unrestrained. Paige stumbles back a little, her hands instinctively gripping Azzi’s waist as she pulls her in, making sure neither of them lose their balance. The door swings shut behind them with a loud thud, the only sound in the room now is their heavy breaths as they press closer to one another.

Azzi’s hands find Paige’s jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, while Paige steadies them both, her fingers slipping beneath the loose cropped shirt Azzi has on. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing—just unspoken longing spilling over now that they’re finally in the same place again.

After what feels like an eternity of them standing there, Azzi pulls back just enough to whisper against Paige’s lips, “You really didn’t think to tell me you were here?”

Paige smirks, her hands still on Azzi’s waist. “Figured a surprise was more fun.”

Azzi huffs out a small laugh before tugging Paige back in, shaking her head as she mumbles, “You’re ridiculous.” But she doesn’t seem to think so when Paige’s tongue slides in her mouth.

They move together, stumbling but somehow in sync, until they reach the foot of the bed. Despite how frantic it seems, Paige is careful—guiding them, making sure Azzi doesn’t trip over anything in her rush. They stay standing at the foot of the bed for a moment, lost in one another, lips moving, hands exploring like they’re memorizing the feeling of each other.

Then Azzi pulls back just enough, her fingers slipping under the hem of Paige’s shirt. Paige lifts her arms, letting Azzi tug it over her head. The second it’s gone, Azzi discards her own shirt and doesn’t waste another moment before pulling her back in, her lips crashing into Paige’s.

Paige chuckles against her mouth, breaking the kiss just enough to murmur, “Baby, slow down—” her hands find Azzi’s waist, thumbs smoothing over her skin as she whispers, “Lemme see you.”

Azzi, still a little dazed, blinks at Paige and murmurs, “What did you just call me?”

Paige chuckles, shaking her head as she tries to play it off. “Nothing,” she says casually. “I said, lemme see you.”

Azzi doesn’t press—at least, not yet. Instead, she lowers herself onto the bed, looking up at Paige through her eyelashes, the corners of her lips tugging up just slightly.

Paige exhales, rolling her eyes playfully. “Don’t look at me like that.” She steps closer, brushing her thumb along Azzi’s chin, her touch impossibly gentle despite the tension crackling between them.

Azzi tilts her head, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

Paige groans, her fingers curling under Azzi’s chin as she mutters, “Like that.”

Azzi just blinks up at her, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Paige exhales sharply, shaking her head as she steps back. “You know what you’re doing,” she mutters, turning away.

Azzi simply shrugs. “Maybe.”

She watches as Paige leans against the desk across from the bed. Azzi takes her in, letting her gaze roam—Paige’s hair pulled back in a loose bun, her diamond earrings catching the light, the black shorts sitting on her hips, paired with a black Nike sports bra. And then there’s her cross necklace, resting just above her chest.

Azzi smirks. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Paige lifts an eyebrow, silently challenging the question. Like what?

Azzi shakes her head, her smile deepening. “Come here.”

Paige pushes off the desk and walks over, looking at Azzi the entire time. The moment she’s close enough, Azzi reaches for her necklace, curling her fingers around it as she gives a gentle tug, pulling Paige down toward her on the bed.

Paige hovers over Azzi, smiling down at her, amusement flickering in her eyes. Azzi meets her gaze, fingers still curled around the necklace. She gives it another tug, just enough to bring Paige down to her level, and their lips meet again—this one is slower, more intimate, as if they’re finally allowing themselves to just exist in this moment.

There’s no urgency, no frantic need to make up for lost time.

Paige starts to pull away, but Azzi’s fingers tighten around the chain, keeping her close. Their lips reconnect, and Paige can’t help but smile into it, letting out a soft chuckle at Azzi’s persistence. Azzi hums against her mouth, clearly pleased with herself, and Paige deepens the kiss for just a second longer before murmuring against her lips, “So this is how it is, huh?”

Azzi hums in response, deepening the kiss, and Paige lets her, letting herself sink into the warmth of it as Azzi’s fingers stay wrapped around her necklace, keeping her close, as if she’s afraid Paige will disappear if she lets go.

After a while, both of their lips are raw when Paige pulls back just enough to murmur, “I gotta tell you something.”

Azzi doesn’t release her immediately, stealing a few more kisses before finally loosening her grip on the chain. Paige smirks at the reluctance before pulling back slightly, still hovering over Azzi.

Azzi tilts her head, her fingers fully undoing Paige’s bun that she messed up. “What?”

Paige exhales softly, then says it as casually as if she’s commenting on the weather. “I’m coming to UConn.”

Azzi blinks up at her, the words not quite registering at first. “What?”

Paige chuckles, brushing a loose curl from Azzi’s face. “I’m transferring to UConn.”

The grin that spreads across Azzi’s face is instant and huge, her excitement practically radiating off of her. Without thinking, she wraps her arms around Paige and pulls her into a hug, the force of it making Paige collapse onto her with a laugh.

Azzi holds on tight, her face buried in Paige’s shoulder, her voice muffled as she says, “Are you serious?”

Paige just laughs again, wrapping her arms around Azzi in return. "Yeah. I'm serious."

Azzi pulls back slightly, looking at Paige with surprise. "When did you tell Geno?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

Paige shrugs. "I haven't yet. I wanted to tell you first."

Azzi’s expression softens, a wide grin spreading across her face. "You wanted to tell me first?"

Paige nods, her gaze softening as she meets Azzi’s eyes. "Yeah."

Azzi smirks, leaning up slightly. "Aww, that’s sweet."

Paige rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "Alright, shut up," she mumbles, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

Azzi chuckles, clearly enjoying the moment. "I’m just saying. It’s cute."

Paige exhales a quiet laugh, rolling her eyes as she mutters, "Whatever," before leaning back down to kiss Azzi.

This time, the kiss is slower, deeper—Paige’s weight pressing into Azzi completely as their lips move in sync. Azzi feels the warmth of Paige’s body against hers, the way Paige’s knee slides in between her legs. She lets herself sink into it, her hands finding their way to Paige’s sides, fingers curling against her skin as she pulls her closer.

The moment is so consuming that it takes a second before Azzi realizes where her hands are—right over the scar. The very place Paige had once pulled her away from, tensing at her touch.

Azzi stills, her breath hitching as she pulls back slightly, ready to apologize, but before she can say a word, she notices that Paige hasn’t moved away.

She’s still there, still hovering over her, her blue eyes looking a little shocked but still soft as they search Azzi’s face. There’s a little hesitation in her eyes but no discomfort—then slowly just a quiet acceptance.

Azzi barely has time to process it before Paige leans back down, capturing her lips in another kiss, deeper this time. It’s slow and almost calculated, as if Paige is telling her without words that it’s okay. That she wants this. That she wants her. At this, Azzi flips them over, her movements instinctual, and suddenly, she’s the one hovering over Paige. Paige lets out a quiet breath of surprise, her blue eyes flickering with something unreadable—something Azzi has come to know all too well.

Azzi doesn’t give her time to think too much. She dips down, trailing her lips along the sharp curve of Paige’s jaw, then lower, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. Paige licks her lips at the feeling, willing her body to relax beneath Azzi’s as she sighs slightly, her fingers brushing along Azzi’s back.

Azzi smiles against Paige’s chest, taking her time, savoring every second of this—of Paige letting her in, letting her touch her like this. She feels Paige shift slightly beneath her again, feels Paige pulling her closer, and the small action makes something warm bloom in Azzi’s chest.

So she keeps going, kissing down the column of Paige’s throat, feeling her pulse racing beneath her lips, feeling the way Paige’s breath hitches every time she lingers just a second too long.

Paige couldn’t help but sigh at how soft Azzi’s lips felt against her throat, how warm and steady she felt hovering over her. It was effortless—the way Azzi moved, the way she kissed her, like she had all the time in the world. She was making sure to kiss every part of Paige’s neck, every inch of exposed skin, trailing lower with no rush, no hesitation.

Both of them had a soft appreciation for this moment. For Azzi, it was about memorizing Paige like this—unworried by the outside world, just them, just this. And for Paige, it was about allowing herself to let go, even if just for a little while.

She knew, from all their late-night FaceTime calls, that Azzi understood her in a way not many people did. Azzi knew that Paige didn’t like giving up control—that it wasn’t in her nature, that her brain basically screamed at her when she wasn’t in control of something. She knew that Paige always had to be the one holding the reins, the one dictating the pace, the one leading.

But right now, Paige wasn’t doing that.

Right now, she was letting Azzi take the lead. She was willing herself to trust the girl hovering above her. And the way Azzi handled her, with such care and patience, made it feel easier than she thought it would be.

Azzi watches Paige closely as she trails lower, her lips brushing over her skin, her hands smoothing over Paige’s sides. When she glances up, all she sees is Paige with her eyes closed, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. She smiles at the sight, at the trust Paige is giving her, and then she dips back down, kissing every inch of her stomach with the same patience she had when she started.

But when she reaches the scar, she hesitates. Because it’s a tricky thing—she can’t ignore this part of Paige, wouldn’t want to, but she also knows it’s sensitive, both physically and emotionally.

So, she starts slowly. A soft kiss. She feels Paige’s stomach tense slightly beneath her, the smallest shift, but she doesn’t tell her to stop.

So she places another kiss. Then another. Azzi takes her time, shifting her lips along every part of the scar, not missing an inch. She even moves to Paige’s side, making sure to trail her kisses as far as she can.

When she finally looks up, Paige’s eyes are open now, watching Azzi’s every move.

Then, Paige’s hand moves.

Azzi stills when she feels the gentle brush of Paige’s thumb against her cheek. She leans into it instinctively, closing her eyes for a brief second before looking back at her.

Paige is watching her, something unreadable in her expression, but there’s absolutely no hesitation in the way she touches her.

Azzi turns her head slightly, pressing a kiss to Paige’s palm before murmuring, “You okay?”

Paige nods. “Yeah.”

Azzi’s smile is soft as she moves back up, her lips finding Paige’s. As their mouths move together, her hand drifts lower, sliding easily into Paige’s shorts where she runs her fingers against Paige. The touch is barely there, but it pulls a reaction from Paige immediately—a low, involuntary sound escaping her lips.

Azzi chuckles, pulling back just enough to murmur, “You good?”

Paige nods, her breath a little uneven. “Mhm,” she manages, but then Azzi is sliding into Paige, settling completely before she’s pulling them out again agonizingly slow. Paige’s eyelids flutter as she exhales shakily, her voice coming out softer now, more like a whisper. “That feels good…”

Azzi smiles against her lips, happy with the effect she’s having on her. So she keeps the slow pace going, feeling the way Paige subtly arches into each time she curls her fingers. After some time, when she feels Paige getting a little more urgent in her movements, Azzi pulls away from the kiss. Creating just enough space between them to take in Paige’s face fully. To see her reactions.

Paige opens her eyes to look up at her, blue eyes heavy, but locked onto Azzi’s with an intensity that makes Azzi’s breath catch. There’s something about the way she’s looking at her—like she’s completely lost in her.

Azzi’s voice is quiet as she whispers. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Paige swallows hard at that, something deep in her chest tightening, like she might explode under the weight of those words. Her fingers flex against Azzi’s back as she struggles to find a response, but the truth is, she doesn’t need to say anything—Azzi already knows.

The way Azzi is looking at her, like she’s the only thing that matters in the world—makes her heart pound faster. Feeling Azzi move in and out of her almost perfectly, sends a warmth spreading through Paige’s entire body. She feels overwhelmed, not just by the sensation but by the way Azzi is completely focused on her, on every reaction she’s having.

Paige swallows, her throat suddenly dry. “Azzi…” she whispers out, not even sure what she wants to say.

Azzi just smiles, dipping her head down to brush her lips against Paige’s again. “I mean it,” she whispers against her mouth. “You’re so beautiful Paige.”

Paige exhales shakily, her fingers flexing against Azzi’s back, like she needs to hold onto something solid to keep herself from falling apart completely. “…Shut up,” she finally mumbles, but there’s no real bite to it.

Azzi raises her eyebrows, surprised by this response. But then she’s smiling because Paige’s blue eyes are completely hazy, her chest is rising and falling quicker now, her body reacting in ways she’s clearly struggling to control as she throws her head back against the pillow.

“Fuck— I’m sorry, I just—” Paige starts, but she can’t finish, her voice becoming unsteady. Azzi just chuckles, continuing her pace but adding a little pressure as she slides her knee in between Paige’s legs.

“It’s okay,” Azzi reassures her, keeping her voice gentle. “I know.”

But Paige’s breathing only stutters more, her body tense beneath Azzi. Azzi lowers her head near Paige’s ear. “Relax, baby.”

Paige takes a sharp inhale at hearing Azzi whisper in her ear, her fingers gripping Azzi’s arm tightly. Still, she listens—taking a deep unsteady breath, forcing herself to settle.

Azzi kisses the corner of her jaw, feeling the tension in Paige’s body start to unravel beneath her. “That’s it,” she whispers, dragging her lips along Paige’s skin as she speeds up her movements.

Paige swallows hard. “Azzi I—”

“Sshhh,” Azzi soothes, as she adjusts so she has more room to keep her pace. “I know.”

And then Paige is tensing under her all over again.

Paige’s words come out choked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I can…I can’t…it’s—”

Azzi lifts her head, “Look at me,” she murmurs.

Paige forces her eyes open, her eyelids are low and her eyes are unfocused as they lock onto Azzi’s. Once their eyes lock Azzi slows her pace again, curling her fingers perfectly every time she moves. Making sure Paige feels her.

“Just relax for me,” Azzi whispers.

Paige swallows, nodding once, never breaking eye contact as she takes another deep breath. As soon as she does that it hits—her body trembling, breath hitching, fingers tightening against Azzi’s back.

Azzi leans down, immediately taking Paige’s lips in her own, swallowing every shaky breath, every quiet whimper, every moan, until Paige finally starts to settle beneath her.

Before Azzi even knows what’s happening, Paige is flipping them over. When she does this, she’s a lot more feverish than Azzi was, her lips trailing down Azzi’s jaw, sucking and nipping along the way, like she can’t get enough of her.

Azzi, already worked up just from watching Paige, takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Fuck Paige—”

Paige hums against her skin, the sound vibrating through Azzi’s body.

Azzi exhales shakily. “I really can’t wait. It’s been too long.”

Paige lifts her head, her pupils dilated, she nods once before leaning back down, sealing her lips over Azzi’s again.

Paige easily slides her hand into Azzi’s pajama shorts and groans when there’s no other barrier and she immediately feels how ready Azzi is for her. Paige whispers out, “Fuck baby, why you didn’t tell me.” Before Azzi can respond Paige is easily sliding her fingers into Azzi.

As soon as Paige does this, Azzi’s breath hitches, and she mumbles, “Oh god.” Paige smirks, feeling the heat radiating from Azzi’s body as she easily takes her in.

Azzi, already feeling the tug in her stomach, grabs Paige’s waist and pulls her closer, the weight of Paige on top of her having Azzi closing her eyes in relief. She runs her hands up and down Paige’s back, her breath growing shallow. “I miss you so much,” Azzi murmurs.

Paige leans down to kiss her. “I miss you, too pretty girl,” she replies softly.

Azzi exhales a quiet, needy sound at the nickname, she wraps her arms tightly around Paige’s shoulders and hooks her legs around Paige’s waist, using the leverage to pull her closer. A low groan escapes her lips as Paige presses deeper into her, her fingers tangling into Paige’s hair seeking any piece of her she can get.

A few moments later, Azzi’s phone rings from the nightstand, popping the bubble they created. The first time, Azzi ignores it, her attention completely on the way Paige is making her feel, but then it rings again. Again, she ignores it, letting Paige continue, her hands never leaving Paige’s head, but when it rings a third time, Azzi can’t ignore it anymore.

With a deep sigh, she reaches over to grab the phone, still breathing unevenly from the way Paige feels inside of her. She glances at the screen and sees Caroline’s name flashing.

Azzi sighs again, this time louder, her chest tightening. Paige, noticing the change, starts to shift off of her, but Azzi grabs her, shaking her head, “No… don’t,” she says softly, pushing Paige’s head into her neck. Paige is a little surprised at this but she complies with what Azzi wants as she starts placing open mouth kisses to Azzi’s neck, curling her fingers as she does it.

Reluctantly, Azzi answers the phone, her voice completely breathy as she says, “Yes, Caroline?”

Caroline’s voice comes through the phone. “You have 15 minutes.” And before Azzi can respond, Caroline hangs up, already knowing exactly what Azzi is doing.

Azzi throws her phone somewhere and immediately pulls Paige back into a kiss, this time more urgent. Both of them are aware of the time slipping away, and the need to be close is almost overwhelming.

Paige, knowing what she needs to do to speed the process up for Azzi, adjusts so she can use her thumb adding slow soft circles to the mix as she continues to curl her fingers.

It doesn’t take long for Azzi’s body to shake under Paige’s touch, her breath coming in shallow bursts as her hands tighten around Paige. She tries to speak, but the words don’t come out clearly, her chest heaving with every shaky exhale.

“P-Paige…Yes—” she stammers, struggling to find her voice as Paige’s continues to work in and out of her, drawing another tremor from her. “Fuck—” Her hands find Paige’s back, trying to pull her impossibly closer, her fingers digging into her skin as she gasps. “I… want you... so much...”

Azzi’s words slip into a breathless murmur, almost incoherent. Paige slows her rhythm as she helps Azzi ride out the sensation, her smile growing as she watches her.

“You have me,” Paige whispers, pressing her forehead to Azzi’s as they both savor the moment.

They stay just like that for a second, both of them breathing deeply, still feeling the weight of each other. There’s a quiet, unspoken understanding between them as they both lay there, hearts still racing in sync.

Paige breaks the silence with a soft murmur, “You gotta go.”

Azzi exhales slowly, her body still warm beneath Paige’s, but the words don’t seem to make her move just yet. She pulls Paige closer instead, pressing a kiss to her lips before she mumbles, “I know.”

Even as she says it, Azzi’s hands tangle in Paige’s hair, and the kiss turns more urgent. The heat between them grows again, their lips moving together perfectly, tasting each other in a way that seems to say they’re not ready to let go, not yet.

But eventually, Azzi pulls away, her chest rising and falling. She gives Paige one last lingering look before she’s tapping her to stand up. Once Paige rolls off of her, Azzi stands, stretching and crossing the room to grab Paige’s discarded shirt from the floor, easily slipping it over her head.

Paige smirks, her eyes following Azzi’s every movement, and as she stands up from the bed she says. “Look at you, putting on my shirt. Ms. ‘Don’t get used to it.’”

Azzi rolls her eyes, as she slips her Uggs back on. Paige mirrors the move, grabbing her phone and keycard, ready to walk Azzi upstairs.

Azzi’s voice breaks the quiet. “You’re not going to put on a shirt?”

Paige laughs, glancing down at herself. “You kinda sorta stole mine.”

Azzi laughs softly, nodding. “Fair enough.” She watches as Paige glances at herself in the mirror, her jaw tightening just slightly before she looks toward Azzi.

“I should be fine. It’s pretty late.”

Azzi nods, grabbing her hand and the two of them step out of the room, walking down the hall toward the elevator. The walk feels too short and they reach Azzi’s door before they know it.

Azzi reaches out first, pulling Paige toward her in one more kiss. It's slow, a little messy—her lips pressing against Paige's with a delicate urgency. Azzi’s arms slide over Paige’s shoulders, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of Paige’s neck and Paige responds, her hands wrapping around Azzi’s waist, pulling her in closer.

But then the door to Azzi’s room swings open, and Caroline peeks her head out. She doesn’t seem surprised by what she sees, “You deadass have like a minute.”

Like most people, because humans truly can’t help it, her eyes flicker down to Paige’s exposed torso, and Paige immediately notices the look.

The moment shifts, the lightness of Paige’s energy almost vanishing as she steps back from Azzi. Her jaw tightens, her fingers subconsciously starting to fiddle with the ring on her finger. She clears her throat, putting a little more distance between them. “I’ll text you, okay?” she says, her voice quieter now, and Azzi nods, understanding the sudden shift.

Paige takes one last look at Azzi, giving her a small smile then turns to walk away.

As Azzi and Caroline walk into the suite. Caroline watches as Azzi shuts the door and as soon as Azzi starts walking towards her bed, Caroline can’t help herself. “What was that?” she asks, her voice light with curiosity.

Azzi glances at her but doesn’t pause in her movement. “That was a kiss,” she answers simply.

Caroline raises an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with that response. She shifts slightly on the couch. “Obviously. But I’m not talking about that.”

Azzi stops in her tracks, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed. She takes a breath, turns, and faces Caroline. “Then what was what?”

Caroline is persistent, but her tone is soft and inquisitive, rather than pushy. “She had this huge scar on her side. I saw it when you were...you know. What’s going on with that?” Caroline’s eyes flicker with concern, showing she’s not trying to pry in a harsh way.

“It’s nothing,” Azzi says simply, keeping her voice neutral.

Caroline frowns, not convinced. “Azzi, that’s not nothing,” she says gently. “Is she okay?”

Azzi finally looks at Caroline. “She is.”

Caroline senses the finality in Azzi’s words and nods slowly, her curiosity still piqued, but understanding that Azzi isn’t going to share more. “Alright. I get it,” Caroline says, leaning back on the couch, not pressing any further.

True to Paige's word, as Azzi climbs into bed, her phone buzzes. She picks it up with a smile, seeing Paige's name light up the screen. Her fingers quickly swipe across the screen.

Paige💗You good?

Azzi reads the text and replies with a single word, followed by another.

Azzi <3 Course

Azzi <3 Why wouldn’t I be?

A few moments later, Paige responds.

Paige💗We kinda rushed for you.

Azzi’s chest warms a little at that. She pauses before texting back.

Azzi <3 You’re sweet

Azzi <3 Truly

Azzi <3 But the word "quickie" exists for a reason

Paige’s reaction comes through quickly — adding a laughing reaction to the message. Before adding

Paige💗Just wanted to make sure.

As Paige and Azzi continue their text exchange, a knock at the door interrupts the rhythm of the conversation for a second. Caroline glances over before moving to answer it, pulling the door open just enough to see who’s there.

CD stands in the hallway, her expression neutral as she steps just inside the room. Her gaze scans the space, quickly landing on Azzi sitting up on her bed, phone in hand. CD gives a small, satisfied nod, completing her room check, but her eyes linger for a second longer when she notices the shirt Azzi is wearing—the familiar bold Minnesota lettering printed across the front.

If CD has any thoughts about it, she doesn’t voice them. Instead, she offers a simple, “Goodnight, girls.” She doesn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and pulling the door shut behind her.

Azzi chuckles under her breath, shaking her head slightly before turning her attention back to her phone, her fingers resuming their steady taps against the screen. Her smile growing as she sends another message to Paige.

Meanwhile, Caroline moves through the dim room, flipping off the last light before climbing into her bed.

Azzi remains awake, the faint glow of her phone illuminating her face as she continues the constant back-and-forth with Paige.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

440 notes · View notes

giuseppe-yuki · 4 months ago

Text

come over, baby!

rancher!oscar piastri x city girl!reader

w.c.: 4.3k

warnings: curse words, heavy allusions to sex, a little bit of ooc!oscar

summary: oscar sneaks you onto his family's ranch. it doesn't go as smoothly as he planned.

a/n: merry christmas to those who celebrate! :) i know i haven't uploaded a real fic in a hot sec so i decided to whip this up real quick!

picture credits from pinterest :)

your trusty mini cooper gives a sharp beep as it locks behind you. its taillights flashes bright, causing the branches of the surrounding eucalyptus trees to cast a looming shadow over you and the dusty road. once the lights dim into nothing, you glance around the dark dirt driveway that was apparently the entrance to your boyfriend’s family’s ranch, according to the text from him on your phone.

you let out a sigh- you could have easily been snuggled up in your bed in your college dorm, facetiming him on your phone, but no- he decided that you should become a top secret spy and drive two hours to his conveniently “close” family ranch at 9pm on a tuesday evening and sneak into his bedroom on the first floor because he felt clingy and wanted to see you “in-person.”

it honestly only took a few “no one will knowwww!” and a sprinkle of “come on, baby, pleaseeeeee i want to see youuu!” until you found yourself tiptoeing down the pitch black driveway towards the looming two story family ranch house that was seemingly where your boyfriend was located for fall break. anything for love, you suppose.

you squint your eyes at your phone’s bright screen depicting a lengthy message depicting exactly where to “break in” under the contact name “osc 💕” . park underneath the line of trees outside the metal gates- check. sneak through the broken fence three posts next to the main gates- check. walk down the dirt road towards the main house- currently doing so.

the ranch house is stunningly pretty, with a big patio that housed a few well-worn rocking chairs, a spattering of wildflowers all around, and a big oak tree with a tire swing framing the whole thing. if you weren’t currently on a mission to break into the house itself to see your boyfriend, you would have stayed to admire for awhile.

you locate the window that your boyfriend mentioned further down in the text- the second one on the left side of the house without a window screen (he broke it playing cricket when he was 12, he said). bingo. it honestly wasn’t that hard to find, considering it was only one with the lights on on the first floor.

sliding your phone, the only light source that you had, into your pocket, you curve your fingers underneath the window pane and slowly slide it up, making sure to make zero noise.

the first thing you see when you maneuver yourself all sneakily through the window of the quaint little ranch house’s first-floor bedroom is decidedly not your boyfriend, with his swoopy brown-gold hair and polite-cat smile. instead, a pretty young woman with brown shoulder length hair, cowboy boots, and a silver belt in one hand stops and gapes at you on her way to exit the room.

shit.

“w-w-who are you?” she asks shakily, shuffling around the bed in the middle of the room and extending the silver belt in front of her like a weapon. she gives the air a few experimental slashes as if telling you- back off, i have a weapon.

you start to rethink your decisions. this was oscar’s house…right?

scrambling out of your awkward position sprawled halfway the window, you scoot nervously away from the rather dangerous-looking belt before speaking.

“er, hi,” you say in the most non-threatening tone you can muster up after breaking and entering what you assume is this random lady’s house at an inappropriate time of night.

she doesn’t even give you a chance to explain that this was all a misunderstanding before she yanks the door next to her open and gets ready to, most likely, call the police on you.

however, before she is able to bolt out the door, a familiar boy steps into view in the doorway.

oscar.

he takes a second to take in the situation- you standing awkwardly like that meme of robert pattinson in the kitchen, and the woman holding out the silver belt towards you in a menacing way- before he jumps into action.

“okay…hattie- i can explain,” he exclaims to the woman, slamming the door closed behind him. oscar runs up between you and the still-stunned hattie, which you assume is his sister.

“do not tell mom, but it’s just my girlfriend, okay?” he pleads. then, looking at the belt in hattie’s hand, he wrinkles his brow. “-and is that my belt?”

hattie hides the belt behind her.

“um…no?”

with a single eyebrow raise from oscar, hattie sighs exasperatedly.

“fine, yes, it is. i came into your room to get it for my outfit tomorrow when i caught your-” she peers around oscar, “‘girlfriend’ literally breaking into our house!”

“okay, pause!” your boyfriend says, scooting over to the left a little bit to block hattie’s view of you next to the wide-open window. “first of all, why would you take my belt without asking? second of all, she is not breaking into the house if i invited her in first, and third, again, please don’t tell mum.”

hattie stares at her brother for a second, then peers over his shoulder to look at you, before crossing her arms. “al-right. i won’t tell- only if you do my night duty stuff for the ranch and i get to keep the belt.”

your boyfriend doesn’t even hesitate before spitting a quick “okay, fine” before shoving his sister out of the room.

“fuck. you. i. am. never. doing. that. again!” you whisper-shout at oscar, repeatedly smacking him with the hoodie you stripped off moments ago. screw his puppy-dog eyes and his oddly cute bunny-rabbit smile- you were never trusting him again.

he laughs between the soft smacks from your college-logoed hoodie and pulls you towards him on the bed, effectively halting your attacks.

“come on, baby!” he drawls, wrapping his arms around you. “it’s fine!”

your hoodie is abandoned on the side as he slides you towards him. your head automatically slots into the crook of his neck like it was made to be there, and you practically melt into his warm body, effectively dissolving the bigger part of your embarrassment and anger away.

even when you purposefully cross your arms and face away from him after the hug, oscar knows he has already won the way from the fact that you still crawl underneath his blankets with him like you both always did in your dorm back at college.

he prods you with a finger when you both are snuggled half-way in the blankets and you know that you can’t turn around to face him or else he’s going to press kisses to your face and then your “i’m a bit pissed” facade will surely be broken. you stay back-towards him, but then, he pulls out the ultimate weaponized piece of knowledge that he knows: your ticklish spots. oscar jams his fingers into your side, giggling, and pokes you until you have no choice to squirm back towards him.

the way you wriggle around the bed ends up with you slotted underneath him. oscar gazes down at you, head tilted. you blink back at him slowly, watching how his brown eyes follow your tongue as you lick your chapped lips.

“you know,” he whispers in that lilting australian accent of his, “this is more what i was thinking we could do when i told you to sneak over into my room.”

“yeah?” you say, teasingly. “well, i’ll be glad to recreate whatever you are thinking of.”

a shy grin spreads across his face, and he sits up to strip his old faded sleeping shirt off his body.

you just about salivate, seeing the sight of what you have seen what seems to be hundreds of times- his slightly muscular chest dotted with a constellation of stars that you loved to trace- either during a soft night curled on your dorm room bed, or when you lay, spent, on his chest after a lust-filled night.

before you can stop yourself, you reach out on instinct to trace your fingernail down his torso.

just a millisecond before your finger makes contact with his skin, footsteps sound outside his shut door, and the doorknob rattles, resulting in both of you to snap your heads towards the sound.

with some unbelievable reaction time that should probably get him a seat in formula 1, oscar shoves you underneath his stupid blue bedspread, and throws a couple comforters over your covered body- just in case.

are. you. joking.

you were never trusting oscar again. what the hell were you gonna say to his parents if they found you underneath his blankets? there’s no way in hell they were gonna be easily persuaded like his sister was with a simple belt. what were you going to say?

oh, i’m sorry mrs. piastri, for breaking into your son’s bedroom at 9pm on a tuesday night because your son was feeling a bit frisky.

absolutely not. you would rather die.

instead, you settle for freezing as still as you can underneath the pitch-black insides of oscar’s pile of blankets and wait for what just be your impending doom.

the door squeaks as it opens, and you hear the scuffling of house shoes, then a pause.

the person entering the room speaks first.

“oscar.” a pause. “who were you talking to? and what- what are you doing with your shirt off? why are you kind of sweaty?”

you clock it as a female parental-type voice, which confirms your suspicions that- fuck- it’s probably his mother.

your boyfriend shuffles nervously above you.

“mum, what?? talking? i wasn’t talking to anyone- i was talking to myself! also, you can’t just, like, break into my bedroom!” he exclaims a little too quickly. “you have to, like, knock! that’s an invasion of privacy!”

“wow, okay, calm down, oscar!” the woman’s voice shoots back. “why are you so defensive? i just heard voices, and i thought- maybe someone had broke in?”

another pause.

“were you having some…” she trails off. “some- special alone time? a bit of oscar’s happy time?”

oscar’s mother’s insinuations hit both you and your boyfriend at the same time, and you can’t help but clap your hand over your mouth to muffle the laugh that was bubbling up in your throat.

your boyfriend lightly kicks you underneath the covers, which you could directly translate to shut up right now.

“special alone..?!” oscar stutters out, outraged. “no, mum, i was not having some special alone time! please! mum, i’m fine!”

“alright, alright,” his mother remarks, defeatedly.

the scuffling sound heads towards the door, but stills before you can hear the door open.

“by the way, your sister said that you were going to do her nighttime chores for her. i don’t know what kind of silly deal you guys struck up, but i expect it to be done by tomorrow, okay?” she adds.

“okay, okay, i got it, mum,” oscar replies hastily.

“okey-dokey. goodnight, oscar!” his mother says brightly, before you hear the tell-tale sound of the door squeaking shut.

after oscar makes sure the door is completely closed and his mother’s footsteps have disappeared from his bedroom, he yanks his blankets off of you.

the cool air flows over you, and you take a breath of fresh air. even if you only spent three minutes, tops, inside the stuffy blankets, it really felt like forever. you are sure your clothes are all rumpled from being squished underneath all that weight.

“sorry, sorry, sorry,” your boyfriend repeats, grasping you and pecking a kiss to your cheek each time. “that was not part of the plan.”

“mhm,” you mutter back. you didn’t mind, honestly, you were just glad mrs. piastri didn’t notice the suspiciously college-girl shaped lump on her son’s bed.

when oscar pulls off of you, he flashes you a devious grin.

“you wanna..?”

he uses his head to gesture towards the bed.

under normal circumstances, you would have thrown oscar to the bed and done multiple inappropriate things to him, but alas, 1) his mom coming in kind of killed the mood, 2) how could you, when his poor sister was likely, like, down the hall? and most importantly, 3) oscar had promised to do his sister’s chores, and you weren’t about to get mama piastri angry the next morning.

“oscar…” you say, trailing off. “don’t you have to do your, you know, chores?”

the gleam of mischievousness in your boyfriend’s eyes immediately falls flat, and his lips turn into a slight frown.

letting out a rather exaggerated sigh, he slumps forward for a second before slinking towards the door.

“leave my own mother to cockblock me…” he mutters, throwing on a black hoodie and green cap.

you are about to let out a giggle, and pull him back on the bed for looking so cute being forlorn, but then, you realize, no, you have to be the voice of reason.

“come on, oscar, i may be a city girl, but it can’t be that bad, right? i’ll be here all night!”

you are met with your boyfriend’s classic blank stare.

“o-okay…what if…i went with you?” you suggest, reveling in the way that his gaze lights up.

“sneak out of the window, and meet me at the front of the house in 5,” he remarks, giving you a soft smile.

what you expect to see at the front of the house is oscar with a shovel or whatever ranchers use to do their nightly chores, but instead, oscar waves at you from inside an entire fucking glowing atv. it has two seats, and entire mini flatbed trunk area, and to top it off, a covered clear canopy over the entire thing. and you thought the usual ranchers’ method of transportation was a freaking horse?? oscar’s family must have really modernized.

you whisper a quick what-the-fuck before launching yourself into the atv next to your boyfriend. he flashes his usual bunny-rabbit smile at you, before fiddling with a few knobs on the front of the control panel. to your surprise, an entire heating unit starts blasting warm air towards you out of absolutely nowhere.

huh??? when did atvs have heaters??

you don’t even have chance to formulate your thoughts before oscar starts revving the atv like he’s a freaking formula car driver and takes off into the darkness.

even if you knew close to zero about being a rancher, you trail behind oscar to make sure he doesn’t half-ass his chores. the first task is checking the lights, which doesn’t seem too hard.

your boyfriend basically speedruns around the barn that you arrive at, flicking at seemingly random places to turn on floodlights that surround the area.

“for ‘safety’ reasons,” he had said when you asked.

you take the time to do a 360 around the barn, noting the goats that glance at you curiously from their fenced off area outside in the chill night air.

when oscar finishes sprinting around, he grasps your hand and leads you back towards the atv.

“alright, back to my room!” he gasps breathlessly, as he starts the atv back up.

your mind drifts to the poor goats outside.

“er, oscar- are the goats supposed to be outside? i would think they deserve to be inside the barn, warm and toasty, no?”

your boyfriend freezes, hand halfway to the wheel. it’s obvious the cogs in his mind are turning. you blink at him once, before he groans and twists the key into the ‘off’ position for the atv.

typically, you knew your boyfriend as someone who was really hard to irritate, but god, this was really doing a number on him.

oscar bolts toward the gated area that you saw earlier, and easily jumps the fence into the goat’s area. you can’t help but watch in wonder as he herds all the stubborn animals towards the barn’s entrance. most of the goats bleat at him once in annoyance before charging into the warmth of indoors, but you see a few stragglers still in the outdoor pen. a giggle bubbles up in your throat as you see a goat purposefully wedge itself between the fence and the water trough- just enough so oscar couldn’t reach him easily- leading to your boyfriend exclaim in frustration.

it was funny- if you saw the shy, introverted oscar that was typically shown to others at the college that you both went to together, you were sure that they would have never guessed he was the type to get pissy, curse at goats, and shake his fist at the sky like an old grampa in the dark of night.

while he was busy with the stubborn goat, you take the chance to climb over metal rungs of the fence and venture into the barn. it was quite cozy looking, with a thin layer of straw-like bedding covering the floor, round bales of hay lining the walls, and, of course, bunches of goats milling around. sitting on an overturned bucket, you watch as the cute goats settle down for the night, bleating happily.

all of the sudden, a baby goat, (a kid, you find out they are called, later) runs up to you and nibbles at your sleeve. it’s quite adorable, the way it shoves its head under your hand, urging you to pet it. you comply, of course.

it kind of reminds you of the way oscar often shoves his head under your hands during a long night study session. when he was almost at his breaking point, too tired to shove any more vocab words and formulas into his head, he would lie on you and beg for you to thread your hands into his hair and massage his head. oscar would probably go mental if he saw you give the baby goat treatment that was typically reserved for him.

speaking of the devil, the second your hand lands on the baby goat’s head, oscar storms in with the stubborn goat from earlier squished to his chest. half of your boyfriend’s pant leg is soaking wet, and judging from the way his eyes are drawn to the spot where your hand was softly petting the goat’s head, he was not too happy.

“are you…okay, osc?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

after gently letting the offending goat back towards its mates, oscar stands like the standing man emoji in front of you.

“i would like to go.” he responds, face completely deadpan.

although the goats were pretty cute, you would pick oscar every time. lightly scooching away from the baby goat, you stand up and brush off the pieces of straw and dirt that it knocked into your lap. the goat, probably slightly peeved at the fact that you were leaving, decides to do a gravity defying (?) leap at the shelf behind you, which contained a small square block of hay.

much to your amazement, the goat jumps off your bucket, and lands nicely on the shelf a good meter above you.

“don’t you fucking dare,” oscar warns behind you, apparently already guessing the goat’s next step. he runs towards underneath the shelf and pushes you behind him, all the while keeping a eye on the goat as it steps closer and closer to the bale of hay.

it bleats, and pushes the hay with its nose.

the block explodes in midair, completely covering oscar.

for the second time in the day night, you fight to cover your laugh. the poor hay-covered oscar was just about trembling in anger. you hurriedly drag him towards the exit, all the while thanking the gods that what you thought was a darling little goat didn’t just squish your boyfriend.

“come on, baby,” you comfort, parroting the words he had said to you earlier in the night back to him. “it’s fine.”

he huffs, twisting the key of the atv, allowing the heater to effectively blast half of the hay on him straight into your face.

“oh my god, baby, are you okay?” oscar says, eyes wide. he quickly turns the heater down and brushes a few strands of hay off of your head.

you pretend that you didn’t just feel a strand of hay go down your throat.

“y-yeah, no problem,” you cough out. “we can just um, head back if that’s what you’d like.”

“right,” he affirms, voice going back to monotone.

the atv rumbles quietly as he navigates back to the house.

trying to lighten up the mood and fill the awkward silence in the small space of the vehicle, oscar attempts to crack the world’s worst joke using his lust-craved brain.

“after all that fiasco, i think i deserve the world’s best hea-”

before he can finish (hehe get it?), you cut him off, pointing outside to a potentially dangerous situation for his ranch’s chickens.

“oscar,” you say pointedly, “i don’t want to burst your bubble, but was bringing the chickens in one of your sister’s chores? ‘cause they’re currently flapping around in an outdoor area, and i’m afraid there’s like foxes or something that are going to eat them.”

your boyfriend slams on the brake pedal, and peeks over your shoulder, confirming the worst news in his head right now- there was yet another job to be done.

he just about flies out the vehicle, and before you know it, he has wedged himself into the chicken coop. if there is an award for the fastest time to shove like, 15 chickens inside the line of nesting boxes, he would definitely win first. it’s kind of an insane sight. you even hear a few “get the fuck in,” which is decidedly out of character for oscar to ever say.

every chicken actually makes it indoors, and oscar doesn’t hesitate to slam the chicken coop door shut with a loud bang.

you wish you can say the actual ride back to the house isn’t tense, but then, you’d be lying. by the time oscar pulls up to the side of the house where the only window still has its lights on is the second one without a window screen, you can feel each breath that he takes thrumming its way into your core.

he barely has a chance to shut off the atv before you cast a sly glance towards him.

“do you wanna-”

the way his brown eyes glaze over in want does all the answering for you.

all you know is that after spending an undisclosed amount of time inside of the atv fogging up the plastic cover of the vehicle, you both stumbled back through oscar’s stupid little window on the left side of the house, where you continued your little escapade within the confines of his bedroom.

the first thing you realize when you wake up is oscar’s bare skin underneath yours. you’re tucked underneath his arm, and one of your legs is entwined with his.

you shift in his arms, tilt your head, and use a little bit of force to launch yourself upwards to press a kiss on his cheek from your position wedged next to him.

oscar mutters a “mmm,” with his eyes closed, but you can tell from the many times of waking up next to him that he’s obviously awake.

poking his bare stomach with a finger, you giggle.

“i know you’re awake, oscar.”

“nuh-uh,” he shoots back, eyes still closed, grasping your offending finger with his hand and holding your arm away from him.

you untuck your other hand from under the blanket, and move to boop his stomach again.

however, before you are able to, the footsteps come to the door and the doorknob jiggles.

oh. my. fucking. god. not this again.

oscar, like the night before, strategically shoves you under his blankets roughly.

this time, you wedge yourself in a way where you can see the doorway through a crack in the blankets before the door swings open.

a nice-looking woman with straight brown short hair and a white sweatshirt with big block letters that spell out, “y u k i” walks in. his mom, you suppose. behind her stands the girl you saw the day before, hattie, who has her hand clasped over her mouth, trying to stop her giggles from escaping.

oscar’s mom speaks first, clasping her hands together.

“good morning, oscar!” she exclaims, placing her hands on her hips. “did you want some breakfast?”

“er,” your boyfriend says, staying very still.

then, you see oscar’s mom approaching you.

she neatly pulls off the part of the blanket covering your head, effectively blinding you from the bright light from the window, while also turning you into the surface of the sun from the way your cheeks heat up from embarrassment of being exposed literally out of nowhere.

“and maybe your girlfriend would like some breakfast too instead of being shoved underneath your dirty blankets?”

when oscar doesn’t answer, his mother shakes her head and sighs. “wow, oscar, i thought i taught you better than treating guests this way.”

you wrap oscar’s blankets around you, thanking god that his mother had not decided to yank all the blankets off your entire body.

hattie decides this is the moment that she cannot hold her laugh anymore and flees the doorway. you can still hear her little giggles in the hallway.

your boyfriend stutters out angrily, “b-but hattie promised-”

“no, don’t ‘hattie’ me. she didn’t out you.” his mother states calmly. “i was a teen too, once. do you really think i wouldn’t see the footsteps in the mud? your giggling at 3am? the quite honestly- nasty- handprints on the fogged up atv plastic? also, the quite obvious lump that was on your bed-”

she shakes her head, wagging a finger at her son.

turning to you, however, she brightens up significantly. “anyways, i don’t blame you a smidgen for oscar’s actions, darling. call me nicole. now, how would you like your toast and eggs?”

a/n: bonus points if you can recognize what movie + scene i referenced when mama piastri walks for the first time 🤭

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf fic #f1 imagine #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x y/n #op81 x reader #op81 x you #📝

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neptilius · 4 months ago

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pre-dating gojo—him not giving up on her once his eyes are set on her. commenting on most of her pictures, following her on all her socials, having her and megumi pinned on his imessage , sending her flowers and little trinkets, him being the definition of “i see it, i like it, i want it, i got it.” wc; around 800

being a new teacher at jujutsu tech was overwhelming enough without the world’s most insistent sorcerer making you his personal project. from the moment you stepped foot onto the campus, satoru gojo had his sights set on you, and he wasn’t subtle about it. not even a little.

it started small at first, just lingering glances that made you wonder if you had something on your face. then came the compliments, always with that playful grin of his.

“looking sharp today,” he’d say casually, leaning against your classroom door. “you sure you’re not trying to impress someone?”

“just trying to look professional, gojo,” you’d reply, your tone firm even though his attention made your stomach flip.

but satoru gojo wasn’t one to give up when something, or someone, caught his interest.

within days, you noticed him popping up in your social media notifications. he’d followed you on everything, from instagram to twitter, even a random account you barely used. every post you made earned a comment, ranging from witty remarks to downright flirty observations.

“you really have an eye for photography,” he’d write under a scenic picture, only to follow it up with, “but the view isn’t as good as you.”

you weren’t sure if you wanted to scream or laugh, but the attention didn’t stop there.

flowers began appearing on your desk, beautiful arrangements with little notes scrawled in his messy handwriting. chocolates followed, and once, even your favorite coffee order appeared like magic during a particularly grueling morning. you tried asking who was leaving them, but every time, his students would either look away awkwardly or mutter something vague.

megumi, however, had no patience for it. “it’s obviously gojo-sensei,” he said flatly one afternoon when you found yet another bouquet. “he’s been insufferable lately.”

“fushiguro!” nobara scolded, but the slight eye roll she gave made it clear she agreed.

satoru’s antics didn’t stop there. he began finding excuses to help you with your students, offering “expert training tips” that often turned into elaborate demonstrations meant more to impress you than anyone else.

“see that?” he’d say after a particularly flashy display of cursed technique, turning to you with a cocky grin. “bet you can’t teach them that.”

“because it’s not practical,” you’d retort, ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks.

dont get me started on the memes chile... once you finally relented and gave him your number, your phone became a constant source of laughter; random memes, ridiculous videos, and occasionally, surprisingly thoughtful messages about your day.

“saw this and thought of you,” one text read, attached to a picture of a female cat on top of a male cat nuzzling noses.

it was impossible not to crack a smile, even if you tried to keep your responses measured.

but the cherry on top of gojo’s relentless pursuit? he’d even roped his students into it.

“you should just say yes already,” nobara said bluntly one day, crossing her arms as you prepared for a joint training session. “he’s annoying, but he’s also kind of great when you get past the… everything.”

megumi groaned. “don’t encourage her. he’s unbearable enough as it is.”

“he’s determined,” nobara corrected, smirking. “there’s a difference.”

you shook your head, trying to ignore how warm their words made you feel. it was hard to admit, even to yourself, that satoru’s persistence was starting to grow on you.

he was annoying, yes. overthetop? absolutely. but beneath the theatrics, there was a sincerity to his actions that you couldn’t ignore. he studied you, not in a creepy way. but in a way that made it clear he genuinely wanted to understand you.

the small things he did like— remembering your favorite snacks, asking about your hobbies, or noticing when you seemed stressed. spoke volumes about the kind of person he was beneath the surface.

one afternoon, after yet another “accidental” run in, you finally confronted him.

“what do you even want, gojo?” you asked, crossing your arms as you faced him in the courtyard.

he didn’t even flinch at your tone. instead, he smiled, that confident, playful grin softening ever so slightly.

“you,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

your breath hitched, and for once, you didn’t have a quick retort. maybe, just maybe, gojo’s persistence wasn’t as annoying as you thought.

#gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #neptilius

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rafeskai · 4 months ago

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Starstruck | Drew Starkey

Chapter Three

Summary: In the bustling crowd of a premiere event for Outer Banks, you find yourself caught up in a chaotic moment, lost in the sea of fans. Desperate for a way out, you stumble into an alley where fate leads you to an unexpected—and painful—encounter with Drew Starkey. What starts as a simple misstep soon spirals into something far more complicated, and your life takes an unexpected turn.

Pairings: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Author's Note: SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPDATE OMG. HERE'S A LONG CHAPTER FOR Y'ALL.

Masterlist Here

The faint buzz of your phone woke you before the sun had fully risen. Groggily, you reached for it, expecting some random notification or perhaps an email that could wait. But as you squinted at the screen, Ava’s name popped up, her message in all caps: “CHECK TMZ NOW.”

You rubbed your eyes and mumbled, “What?” It was too early for any kind of drama, but Ava rarely texted in all caps unless it was something urgent—or, more likely, celebrity gossip. Your curiosity finally nudged you to open your browser and type in the site’s name.

The headline on TMZ’s homepage made your stomach drop:

“DREW STARKEY SPOTTED WITH MYSTERIOUS WOMAN”

Your breath hitched as you clicked on the article. There it was: a grainy photo of Drew and you, blurry but unmistakably you. Your heart pounded in your chest. The mask you’d been wearing at the bar covered most of your face, and the dim lighting made it difficult to make out any details. But the white tank top, courtesy of Ava’s insistent styling, was unmistakable.

The article buzzed with speculation.

“Who’s the masked woman spotted with Drew Starkey last night? The Outer Banks star was seen leaving an intimate LA hotspot with an unidentified companion. Sources say the two appeared comfortable and spent several hours together inside the bar. Could this be Drew’s latest flame? Or just a casual night out? Our team are on the case!”

Your stomach churned. You scrolled through the comments section.

“Another mysterious nobody who’ll ghost him in two weeks, I bet.”

“Imagine being her. I’d die to just breathe the same air as Drew Starkey.”

“The way she’s covering her face... suspicious much?”

“She’s definitely hiding something. Maybe she’s married?”

A few deep breaths later, you set your phone down, but the sense of dread didn’t leave. Before you could even collect your thoughts, Ava burst into your room, her messy hair looking like a halo of chaos.

“Y/N!” she squeaked, waving her phone around frantically. “You’re famous.”

You groaned, falling back onto the futon. “No, I’m not. No one even knows it’s me.”

“They will,” Ava said with way too much enthusiasm. “TMZ doesn’t just let this go. They’ll start connecting the dots—who was at the premiere, who’s wearing that outfit in public, and eventually, they’ll figure it out. It’s only a matter of time.”

You ran your hands through your hair. “I’m never wearing that outfit again.”

Ava ignored you, pacing back and forth. “Look, we have two options. One: deny everything, keep your head down, and hope the internet finds someone else to obsess over. Or two: lean into it. You’re the enigmatic mystery woman. Milk it for all it’s worth.”

You shot her a flat look. “Option two isn’t happening.”

“Fine, fine,” Ava said with a dramatic sigh, flopping onto the futon next to you. “But come on! You have to admit, it’s kind of cool. You’re the first non-celebrity girl to pop up in Drew Starkey’s dating rumors without getting immediately torn apart. That means something.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, rubbing your temples, “it means I have to be extra careful. I don’t want my life blasted all over the internet.”

“Don’t worry,” Ava reassured you, her hand resting gently on your shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. And honestly? If Drew’s as decent as he seemed, he won’t let this get weird.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Later that afternoon, as you sat in the corner of your room, your phone buzzed again. This time, the name on the screen made your heart skip: Drew.

Drew: “Hey, you good? Saw the TMZ thing. Sorry if this is overwhelming. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

You stared at his message for a moment, a mix of relief and panic flooding you. You could feel the weight of the situation pressing down. Part of you wanted to brush it off, pretend it wasn’t a big deal. But another part of you—the one that was still a little overwhelmed by the chaos—was grateful for his words of concern.

You: “I’m fine. Just... not used to this. Do you deal with this kind of thing a lot?”

Drew: “More than I’d like, yeah. But it usually blows over fast. People move on to the next headline. If you need me to talk to PR or anything, I can.”

You winced at the thought of involving PR—public statements, press releases—it all felt too formal, too... invasive.

You: “I don’t think it’s necessary. As long as they don’t figure out it’s me, I’ll survive.”

There was a pause before Drew’s response came through.

Drew: “If it helps, you’re handling this way better than I did the first time TMZ came for me. If you need to vent or just want a distraction, hit me up.”

His offer to just talk made you smile. You weren’t entirely sure what to say back, so you typed a quick reply, thanking him for the message, and then set your phone down.

As the day wore on, things quieted down. TMZ didn’t update the story, and the internet’s attention began to shift. Without a clear shot of your face or any definitive details about your identity, people started to lose interest. But that didn’t mean it was over for you.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The day crawled forward, each passing hour a mix of relief and unease. It seemed TMZ's interest in Drew’s “mystery woman” had dwindled without a fresh lead to stoke the flames. By early evening, the frenzy online was noticeably quieter.

Still, the tension in the air lingered, like a storm that had passed but left the skies unsettled.

Ava had mercifully stopped treating the situation like a red-carpet event. She sat cross-legged on the living room floor, scrolling aimlessly through her phone while munching on a bag of popcorn. You paced nearby, trying to shake off the knot of nerves in your stomach.

Then your phone buzzed. It was Drew again.

Drew: “Can I come over for a bit? Just got done with a photoshoot and paparazzi are everywhere outside my place, and I need to lay low for a while.”

Your heart leapt at the thought of him showing up at your apartment—your quiet, nondescript little corner of the city suddenly becoming a refuge for Drew Starkey. You glanced at Ava, who raised an eyebrow as she noticed your sudden stillness.

You: “Yeah, sure. How are you going to get here without being seen?”

Drew: “I’ll figure it out. I know a back way in. Just text me your address.”

You hesitated for a moment, then sent the details. It wasn’t long before he replied.

Drew: “Be there in 15. Thanks, by the way.”

The next 15 minutes passed in a blur. You hurriedly cleared the living room of any clutter, your nerves bubbling into a chaotic energy. Ava, meanwhile, perched on the couch with a dazed grin, clearly trying to play it cool but failing miserably.

When the soft knock finally came at the door, your pulse quickened. Ava bolted upright, her excitement palpable. “This is it,” she whispered, clutching the couch cushion like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

You opened the door, and there he was—Drew, in a plain hoodie and baseball cap, looking like any regular guy. He offered a small smile, his eyes scanning the hallway before stepping inside.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Thanks for this.”

“No problem,” you replied, closing the door behind him. “Figured you could use some peace.”

Ava, standing awkwardly by the couch, let out a shaky laugh. “Hi. Um. Wow. Hi.”

Drew chuckled, clearly used to this reaction but handling it with grace. “Hey. You must be Ava.”

She nodded rapidly, then promptly sat back down, her face bright red. Drew turned to you, his smile warm but tired. “I hope I’m not imposing.”

“Not at all,” you said, motioning for him to sit. “Make yourself at home.”

As he settled onto the couch, Ava finally seemed to snap out of her starstruck trance—at least a little. “Do you need anything? Water? Snacks? I have... popcorn?” she offered, holding up the bag as if it were a peace offering.

Drew smiled. “Popcorn sounds great, actually.”

Ava handed over the bag, then promptly excused herself to the kitchen under the guise of making tea, though you suspected she just needed a moment to compose herself. That left you and Drew alone in the living room.

“So,” he said, leaning back slightly. “How’s your day been? Any more chaos?”

You laughed softly. “Thankfully, no. The internet seems to be moving on. I think we’re in the clear.”

“That’s good,” he said, popping a kernel of popcorn into his mouth. “I feel bad for dragging you into this.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, sitting down on the armchair across from him. “It’s not like you invited TMZ to follow you.”

He gave a wry smile. “Still, I appreciate you being so cool about it. Most people would be freaking out.”

“I think Ava freaked out enough for both of us,” you joked, glancing toward the kitchen. Drew laughed, the sound light and genuine, and you couldn’t help but feel the tension in the room ease.

Over the next hour, the conversation flowed surprisingly easily. Drew talked about his hectic schedule, his favorite low-key spots in LA, and a few funny on-set stories that had you laughing until your sides hurt. Ava eventually returned, having calmed down enough to join in without squealing every time Drew spoke.

As the evening wore on, the initial awkwardness faded entirely. Drew’s presence felt natural—like he belonged there, sitting on your couch, sharing popcorn and swapping stories. It was almost too easy to forget who he was, how absurd this situation really was.

At one point, Ava let out a dramatic yawn and stretched. “I’m gonna call it a night,” she said, giving you a not-so-subtle wink before retreating to her room.

That left you and Drew alone again, the apartment quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside. He leaned back against the couch, his gaze soft as he looked at you.

“Thanks again for letting me crash here,” he said. “I really needed a break from... all of it.”

You smiled. “Anytime. Seriously. It’s nice having company.”

He held your gaze for a moment, and you felt a flutter of something unspoken pass between you. Then he grinned, breaking the moment. “Well, if TMZ ever finds out about this, at least I’ll have a great story to tell.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The evening stretched on, a slow dance of easy conversation and laughter. It felt surreal—Drew Starkey, the star of Outer Banks and Queer, sitting in your living room, eating popcorn and talking about his favorite movies like any regular person. But the longer he stayed, the more normal everything felt. He wasn’t a celebrity in this space. He was just Drew, the guy sitting across from you, making you laugh and sharing little bits of his world.

Ava had retreated to her room after her not-so-subtle hint about bedtime, leaving you and Drew alone in the living room. You didn’t mind—it gave you the space to talk without interruptions, to get to know each other a little more.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Drew said after a pause, setting the popcorn down on the coffee table and shifting slightly on the couch. “What do you do when you’re not dealing with... all of this?”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the way he gestured vaguely around the room “Nothing nearly as exciting as your life, that’s for sure.”

He smiled, his eyes softening. “I’m sure that’s not true, although it’s definitely a different world, being in the spotlight like this.” He paused for a moment, his tone thoughtful. “I think people forget that celebrities are just people, you know?”

“I think people forget that about anyone, really,” you said with a shrug. “Everyone’s got their own thing going on. Whether you’re famous or not, it’s all the same. We all have our struggles, our ups and downs.”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, nodding. “I think that’s what I miss most sometimes. Just... being able to go out without feeling like everyone’s watching, analyzing your every move.”

You looked at him, the weight of his words sinking in. You hadn’t really considered how strange it must be to live under that kind of constant scrutiny. You found yourself wanting to offer him something more than just sympathy. “You don’t have to be ‘Drew Starkey’ tonight,” you said gently. “You’re just... Drew. And I’m just me. No TMZ, no cameras, no headlines.”

His smile returned, a little softer this time. “I like that. I really like that.”

The conversation drifted effortlessly from one topic to another. You talked about favorite childhood memories, your go-to comfort foods, and the last book you’d both read. He listened with an openness that made you feel like you could share just about anything, and the more you spoke, the more at ease you became.

Drew revealed little snippets about his life that were both surprising and comforting. Like how he had a weird obsession with vintage comic books or how, despite being a well-known actor, he still had the same group of friends he’d had since high school. You learned he was surprisingly humble, almost self-deprecating at times, and he had this way of laughing at himself that made him even more relatable.

“You ever go to concerts?” you asked after a moment, trying to steer the conversation toward something lighter.

He grinned, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, I love concerts. I try to hit up a few whenever I can. Nothing like live music, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, smiling back. “There’s just something about the energy in the air. It’s like everyone’s in the same vibe.”

“I’m a sucker for the energy,” Drew said with a nod. “What’s your favorite genre? Or are you more of a ‘whatever’s on’ type?”

“Definitely more of a whatever’s on type,” you said, laughing. “I like a little bit of everything. But I do have a soft spot for indie rock. You?”

“Indie rock, too,” he said without hesitation. “I swear, I could spend hours listening to bands you’ve never heard of and not even care.”

“That’s the best part, though. The discovery,” you said. “I love finding those hidden gems. The stuff that feels like it’s just yours.”

“I totally get that,” Drew agreed, and there was something about the way he said it—like he really meant it—that made you smile. It was nice, sharing something like that with someone, especially someone you’d barely known just a few hours ago.

As the night wore on, the conversation became less about anything significant and more about just... being. The silence that fell between you wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that happens when you’re with someone you trust, someone you don’t feel the need to fill every moment with words.

You glanced over at the clock on the wall and realized it was past midnight. You yawned, your body starting to feel the effects of the long, unexpected day.

“I think I’m about ready for bed,” you said, stretching a little.

Drew chuckled. “Yeah, me too. It’s been a long day.”

“Thanks for hanging out,” you added, not sure if it sounded too casual, but it felt right. “It’s been nice—just, you know, talking and not worrying about anything.”

Drew smiled, his expression sincere. “Yeah, it’s been nice. Really nice. I’m glad I could... hide out here for a while.”

You grinned. “Anytime.”

He stood up from the couch, stretching his legs. “Well, I guess I should let you get some rest. You’ve probably had enough of me by now.”

“Not at all,” you said, standing as well. “But I think I’m gonna crash before I regret it.”

“Fair enough,” Drew said, his voice warm. “Sleep well, Y/N.”

“You too, Drew. And thanks, again,” you said quietly.

With a final smile, Drew grabbed his hoodie and headed toward the door, turning back for one last glance.

“Goodnight,” he said, before stepping out into the night, leaving you standing there, a feeling of warmth spreading through you.

As you made your way back to your room, you realized just how much you’d enjoyed the unexpected company, the quiet conversation, the sense of connection with someone who, for a few hours, was just like you. No drama, no paparazzi—just two people talking about life.

You crawled into bed, your thoughts swirling with everything that had happened, the night’s laughter still echoing softly in your mind. And for the first time that day, you felt... peaceful.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The next morning, you woke up to a quiet, almost peaceful stillness. The events of the previous day felt like a dream—Drew in your living room, hanging out like any other person, sharing stories and laughter. The time spent with him had left you feeling light, surprisingly at ease considering everything that had happened. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d spent an entire night without feeling the weight of your worries, the world of social media, or the endless noise in your head.

You sat up, stretching, and reached for your phone. The screen lit up with a message from Drew.

Drew: "Hey, hope you slept well. I know we just met, but I was wondering if you’d be up for an adventure today. I’ve got a couple days left in LA before work picks back up, and I could use a break from the usual."

Your heart skipped a beat. An adventure? Just the two of you? The idea was tempting, and, honestly, you hadn’t expected him to reach out so soon after everything that had happened. But there was something about his message that felt... genuine. Like he just wanted to spend time with you, not because of the headlines or the drama, but because you’d connected.

You chewed on your lip for a moment, debating the logistics. It was sudden, but at the same time, it felt like a chance to break away from the chaos, to have a normal, carefree day. Maybe that’s exactly what you needed.

You typed back quickly, the excitement creeping in.

You: "I’m in. What do you have in mind?"

A few minutes later, his reply came through, and you couldn’t help but grin.

Drew: "Perfect. How about we start with a hike? I’ve heard this great spot in the hills with a killer view of the city. We can grab breakfast after and see where the day takes us. No paparazzi, no drama—just a chance to be outside for a bit."

You could almost hear his grin through the text, and you found yourself feeling a little giddy. It had been forever since you’d just wandered, no plans, no expectations.

You: "That sounds perfect. What time do you want to meet?"

Drew: "How about 9? Gives us a little time to get our bearings, but still plenty of daylight. I’ll pick you up at your place."

You: "Deal. I’ll be ready."

The exchange left you buzzing with excitement. There was something about this—a spontaneous day with Drew, exploring LA without the pressure of anything. Just... living in the moment.

You quickly jumped out of bed, got dressed, and packed a small bag with the essentials: water, sunscreen, a hat—anything that would make the day more enjoyable. As you glanced in the mirror, you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. It was one thing to hang out with Drew at your place, but hiking? A day out in the open? You weren’t sure what to expect, but you figured you’d roll with it.

A few hours later, the knock on your door jolted you from your thoughts. You opened it to find Drew standing there, dressed casually in a t-shirt, athletic shorts, and sneakers, his hair slightly windblown as if he’d already been out for a little while. He was holding a water bottle in one hand, a wide, genuine smile on his face.

“You ready for this?” he asked, his eyes glinting with the same excitement you felt bubbling inside.

You grinned back, nodding. “I think so. Lead the way.”

He chuckled and gestured for you to follow him down to the car, where the day’s adventure would begin.

The drive was surprisingly calm, with Drew playing some laid-back tunes and chatting about random things—his love of LA's hidden gems, how he’d gotten into hiking recently, and how crazy it was that he was actually getting a few days to relax between filming schedules. You felt yourself easing into the rhythm of the day, his presence comfortable, easy.

As you reached the trailhead, you couldn’t help but stare at the sprawling view of the city below, the sprawling landscape unfolding in front of you like something out of a postcard. The hills were quiet, a peaceful escape from the noise of LA.

Drew turned to you with a playful grin. “Ready to get your steps in?”

You raised an eyebrow, matching his grin. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

And so, the two of you set off, the trail winding upward through trees and rocky paths, the air crisp with morning freshness. The conversation flowed easily between you both, sometimes serious, sometimes silly. You talked about your favorite movies, shared memories of childhood adventures, and joked about the ridiculousness of modern-day life, social media, and the constant pressure to perform.

The higher you climbed, the more the city seemed to disappear, swallowed by the dense trees and distant mountains. You took breaks along the way, sitting on rocks and chatting, letting the quiet calm of nature seep into your bones. There was something so refreshing about being away from it all, away from the spotlight and the noise, and just sharing these small, human moments.

After a few hours, you finally reached the summit. The view was nothing short of breathtaking. You could see the entire city sprawled out below you, the glittering skyline on one side, the ocean stretching off into the horizon on the other. Drew sat down on a large rock, motioning for you to join him.

You settled next to him, the moment stretching out peacefully between you. Drew glanced over at you, his gaze soft and contemplative.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he teased lightly.

You shrugged, letting the view speak for itself. “It’s just... a nice change of pace. Everything feels so loud sometimes, especially in LA, you know? But up here, it’s just... quiet.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Drew said, his voice quieter now, a touch more serious. “It’s nice to get away from everything, even if it’s just for a few hours. No expectations, no noise. Just... living.”

You smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in days. It felt like this was exactly what you needed—a simple day of adventure, of discovering new places and enjoying the company of someone who wasn’t focused on all the distractions of the world.

After a long while, you both stood up and started the trek back down the trail, still laughing and joking, your connection growing deeper with every passing moment.

When you reached the car, Drew turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, breakfast time?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve never earned a meal so much in my life.”

“Great,” Drew said with a wink. “Let’s go get some pancakes.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The drive to the diner was easy, the calm of the road soothing your nerves. Drew didn’t put on any music this time, letting the hum of the tires on the pavement fill the air as you both enjoyed the simple comfort of the drive. It felt grounding to be out of the whirlwind, just the two of you cruising through LA, away from everything else. No flashing lights, no rumors. Just a quiet moment.

When you arrived at the diner, it was an unassuming little place on a corner, a slice of nostalgia with its neon sign flickering invitingly. The retro décor inside felt like stepping into another time, and you immediately felt at ease in the warm, cozy atmosphere. Drew led the way, holding the door open for you with a smile that made everything feel effortless.

“Welcome to the best pancake spot in LA,” he said with a grin. “Trust me, they know what they’re doing here.”

You smiled, following him inside, and the waitress greeted you both with a friendly nod before leading you to a booth by the window. It wasn’t crowded, and the faint murmur of conversations filled the background as you both settled into your seats. It was the kind of place where you could be left alone to enjoy your meal, and the thought of it made you feel even more relaxed.

The waitress handed you both menus, and Drew glanced at his for a moment before looking up at you. “So, you’ve been in LA for what, a couple of days now?” he asked, his eyes bright with curiosity. “How’s it been? Adjusting from your small town?”

You hesitated for just a moment, taking in his question. It felt strange to admit just how big the change had been. In your small hometown, everything was familiar, comfortable, but LA was… overwhelming, in a good way, mostly. You had come here for something new, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a challenge.

“It’s been… different,” you said, shrugging slightly. “I mean, I grew up in a town where everyone knew everyone. You can’t walk into a store without running into half the people you know. LA’s kind of the opposite—huge, anonymous. It’s been nice, but also a little isolating. That’s why I’ve been trying to make sure I don’t get stuck in my own head too much. I’ve been trying to actually explore, you know? Get out and see the city.”

Drew nodded, his gaze steady, like he was really listening. “Yeah, I get that. LA can swallow you up if you let it. But it’s all about finding your rhythm. I think that’s why I love getting out of the city sometimes, doing stuff that reminds me what life’s like beyond the buzz.”

You smiled, feeling like you could connect with that more than you expected. “Exactly. It’s easy to forget there’s more to life than all this. I’m still figuring out how to balance it all.”

“That’s the thing with LA,” Drew said with a half-smile. “Everyone thinks you’re supposed to be constantly on the go, constantly working. But sometimes the best days are the ones where you’re just… present.”

His words made you pause, and you felt like the weight of the conversation wasn’t just passing by—it was something real. For someone who had so much of the world watching him, Drew seemed to get it, more than you expected. He was speaking to something you’d been trying to figure out since you’d gotten here: what life could look like outside the noise.

Before you could respond, the waitress returned, and you both ordered your meals, Drew sticking with his usual blueberry pancakes and you opting for a classic stack of buttermilks with a side of crispy bacon. The conversation drifted for a moment into lighter territory—favorite foods, places to visit in LA—but you felt the undercurrent of a real connection building between you.

As the waitress set down your pancakes, the sun had already climbed higher in the sky. You dug in, savoring the warmth and comfort of the food. It wasn’t just the pancakes you were enjoying—it was the feeling of normalcy, the feeling of being with someone who made you forget all the distractions.

“So,” Drew said between bites, “I remember you telling me that you came out here for a change. What was it like before? Your small town, I mean.”

You glanced at him, taken a little off guard by the question. You hadn’t really talked about your past in detail, and you weren’t sure how much to share. But Drew seemed genuinely curious, and something about the way he asked made it easier to open up.

“It was a lot quieter,” you said, your voice soft as you thought about your hometown. “A lot of people stick to the same routine, year after year. It wasn’t bad, but I knew it wasn’t the life I wanted. I needed something… bigger, I guess. Something where I could challenge myself. I didn’t want to wake up in ten years and feel like I hadn’t tried.”

Drew’s eyes softened with understanding. “Yeah. I get that. LA’s definitely a place that pushes you out of your comfort zone. I think that’s what I like about it, too—if you’re brave enough, it’ll make you grow.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words sink in. “I guess I’m just figuring out what that looks like.”

“I think that’s the beauty of it,” Drew said. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. The point is just… living it, you know?”

His words hit home in a way you hadn’t expected. Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice or the ease with which he spoke, but you felt like you were hearing something important. Maybe it wasn’t about having everything lined up or planned out. Maybe it was more about being open to the journey.

You smiled, realizing that being here, right now, with Drew, was a part of that journey.

After finishing your pancakes, Drew leaned back in his booth, looking satisfied. “So, what’s next? I know you’ve probably seen all the tourist stuff by now, but I’m thinking we hit some places that aren’t on the usual list. You up for an adventure?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought. You had only just started getting to know LA, and the idea of seeing it through someone else’s eyes—someone who had lived here long enough to know the best hidden gems—sounded perfect.

“Adventure sounds great,” you said with a grin. “What do you have in mind?”

Drew grinned back, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “You’ll see. Let’s go.”

And just like that, you were back on the road, ready for whatever Drew had planned. You didn’t know what the day would hold, but you were more than ready to find out. The city, with all its chaos and beauty, didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore. Not when you had someone by your side who understood what it meant to be in search of something more.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

As you and Drew cruised through the winding streets toward the beach, the excitement you felt earlier in the day had started to shift. There was a sense of unease building in the pit of your stomach, and you couldn’t put your finger on why. You’d spent the morning laughing, talking about your favorite places in the city, and getting to know each other more. But as the car neared the coast, something began to feel off.

Drew was in high spirits, excited about showing you something he loved. But just as you started to relax again, you noticed something—you hadn’t seen a single paparazzi yet. For a moment, you told yourself it was just coincidence. LA wasn’t that small, right?

Then, the first click of a camera caught your ear.

You froze, eyes darting toward the rearview mirror. Drew, blissfully unaware, was focused on the road, humming lightly to the music. But you could see them now—two cars trailing a little too closely. Paparazzi.

Your stomach dropped, and before you could say anything, Drew swore under his breath, his expression darkening.

“Shit,” he muttered, hands tightening on the wheel. “Of course, they found us.”

You started to speak, but Drew was already acting. He began weaving through traffic, trying to shake them off, but the paparazzi followed relentlessly. You felt yourself growing more anxious with each passing second, the buzz of the chase creeping into your nerves.

“This is ridiculous,” you said, glancing over at him, trying to make light of the situation. “We were just going to the beach.”

Drew’s eyes flickered toward you, but it wasn’t the same relaxed, playful Drew from earlier. He looked frustrated, panicked almost. “Yeah, well, this is what happens when you’re seen with someone like me.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, the weight of them sinking deep into your chest. You blinked, processing. “What do you mean, someone like you?”

Drew shook his head, his jaw tight. “I mean, me—a celebrity. People want to know every little thing about me. And now I have to deal with it because I invited you along. People are going to start thinking you're just another hanger-on, someone who wants to use me for the attention.”

His voice wasn’t cruel, but the implication stung all the same. It felt like he’d just dismissed everything about you—everything you were. As if your presence wasn’t your own choice but something tied to his fame, and he didn’t even see how that could hurt. You could feel the heat rise in your chest, the hurt twisting in your gut.

You opened your mouth to respond but stopped yourself. What could you say? You weren’t sure if you were hurt more by the words themselves or by the way they seemed to come so naturally to him. It felt like you were an accessory to his life, just something he had to keep in line to avoid drama. And yet, you hadn’t asked for any of this.

Before you could process it any further, Drew pulled into an alley near a side street, his car screeching to a halt as he scrambled to hide. He turned to you quickly, his eyes frantic. “Put this on.” He reached into the back seat and threw a dark hoodie at you.

“What’s this?” you asked, holding it up.

“A disguise,” he said, voice clipped. “Just do it, okay? I need you to look like someone else right now.”

You stared at the hoodie in your hands, a sinking feeling growing inside you. He was treating this like a game, like you were just a prop to be hidden away. You didn’t have time to argue, though—he was already turning the car around, trying to make his escape.

Your fingers fumbled with the hoodie as you quickly pulled it over your head, the oversized fabric swallowing you. Your mind was spinning, and you couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling gnawing at you. The way he’d talked to you, the way he was treating you—it felt like he was just seeing you as a part of his world, not you. And that hurt more than anything else.

“We can switch cars with Ava.” You offered. Within minutes, you were back at Ava’s apartment, and Drew was practically dragging you inside, his eyes scanning the street as if expecting a mob to pop up at any moment. He rushed you into the apartment, clearly panicked, and you could tell his nerves were getting the better of him.

“We need to go. We can’t stay here,” he said urgently, tossing a bag into the back of Ava’s almost-broken-down car. He had barely taken a second to notice the difference in the car’s condition before he threw the keys into your hands.

You didn’t protest—this was his world, after all. You just followed him, your stomach twisting, feeling more like an afterthought in his plans. The more you saw of this side of Drew, the more you realized that it wasn’t just the paparazzi that were a problem—it was the way he expected you to just fit into it, without a word.

The car started, and Drew floored it as he raced toward the mountains, hoping to escape the frenzy for a while. The roads became more winding, the city skyline fading behind you. But the paparazzi didn’t give up so easily, and just when you thought you were free, you saw the familiar outline of the cars in the rearview mirror.

You sighed. “They’re still following us.”

Drew’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath. “They can’t leave us alone for five minutes.”

In an effort to lose them, Drew took a sharp turn onto a stray road, one that seemed to go deeper into the mountains. The road grew narrower, the trees thicker, but the paparazzi stayed right behind. You felt your patience wearing thin, and as the car started to slow, Drew cursed again.

“We’re lost, aren’t we?” you said dryly, looking out the window at the dense trees that surrounded you.

“I’m just trying to shake them,” Drew replied, trying to hide the frustration in his voice, but you could hear it clearly.

A moment later, the car sputtered and came to a stop.

Drew swore again, banging his hands on the steering wheel. “Shit! We’re stuck.”

You groaned, leaning back in your seat, the weight of everything crashing down on you. “Are you kidding me? We’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, and we’re lost?”

“I didn’t plan this,” Drew snapped. “You think I wanted this?”

“Obviously you didn’t think this through,” you retorted, your voice rising in frustration. “We’re out here because you couldn’t accept that people are following you. You forced me into a disguise, dragged me out of the city, and now we’re stuck in the mud!”

Drew turned to you, his face hard. “You think I wanted any of this? I didn’t ask for this either, you know. I didn’t ask to be followed around by paparazzi all the time. I didn’t ask for people like you to get involved in my life.”

The words stung, and for a moment, you felt something inside snap. “You don’t get it,” you said, voice trembling with emotion. “I didn’t ask for any of this either. I came to LA for a fresh start, to get away from all of that. But now I’m just here, stuck with you in the middle of nowhere, pretending to be someone I’m not, and for what?”

Drew’s face softened, but the damage was already done. You couldn’t look at him anymore. The silence between you both was deafening as you sat in the car, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

You weren’t sure what you were more upset about—the situation itself, or the way Drew had made you feel so small.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The car sat idling in the middle of nowhere, its engine sputtering one last time before dying with a sad cough. You stared at the dense forest surrounding you, the humid air creeping into the small confines of Ava’s beat-up car. Drew banged his fists lightly on the steering wheel and groaned, muttering something under his breath.

“I can’t believe this,” you muttered, unbuckling your seatbelt. “We’re literally stuck in the middle of nowhere because you—”

“Because me?” Drew interrupted, incredulous, turning toward you with wide eyes. “Let’s not forget, the only reason we’re here is because I’m trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” you shot back, your voice rising. “You mean forcing me into a disguise, dragging me into some wild goose chase to avoid a couple of cameras, and now stranding me in the wilderness counts as protection?”

“You think I enjoy this?” Drew countered, gesturing wildly at the forest. “You think I wanted to get stuck in mud, in a car that sounds like it might explode at any moment?”

“Don’t you dare blame Ava’s car!” you snapped, your voice almost a growl. “It’s a miracle this thing even runs, and honestly, I’d trust it over you right now!”

Drew opened his mouth, then shut it, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “We should be working together, not blaming each other.”

“Oh, now you want teamwork?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You mean after you implied I’m some leech who can’t handle your celebrity life?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Drew said quickly, his tone defensive. “I was frustrated, okay? You don’t know what it’s like having your every move watched.”

“I didn’t ask for this!” you yelled, finally stepping out of the car. The humid air hit you, but you didn’t care. You needed to move. “You dragged me into this! I just wanted a nice day out, and instead, I’m in the middle of nowhere, wearing your hoodie, and wondering if I’m about to be eaten by a bear.”

Drew stepped out of the car too, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, first of all, there are no bears here—probably. Second, I was just trying to make the day fun.”

“Oh, yeah, super fun,” you shot back sarcastically, pacing in front of him. “Getting chased by paparazzi, being forced into a hoodie that smells like Axe body spray—real thrilling.”

Drew blinked. “Axe body spray? That’s Tom Ford.”

“Whatever,” you said, throwing your hands up. “It all smells the same when you’re stressed out and stuck in the mud!”

Drew sighed, leaning against the car, his head tilted back. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think it would get this bad.”

“You didn’t think at all!” you snapped, poking a finger at his chest. “And now we’re stranded, because apparently, your grand plan to escape paparazzi is to drive until the Earth swallows us whole.”

“Hey!” Drew said, his tone turning defensive again. “I was improvising. I didn’t see you coming up with any ideas!”

“Because I didn’t sign up to be part of your personal action movie!” you shot back.

There was a beat of silence before Drew’s lips quirked upward, the tiniest hint of a smirk forming.

“What?” you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Excuse me?”

“I mean,” Drew continued, leaning slightly closer, “the way you’re all fiery and passionate right now—it’s kind of hot.”

You gaped at him, utterly speechless. “Are you—are you seriously trying to flirt your way out of this argument?”

“Depends,” he said, his smirk growing. “Is it working?”

You let out a sharp laugh, more out of disbelief than humor. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably charming?” he quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“Unbelievably infuriating,” you corrected, throwing your hands up. “I’m out of here.”

You turned on your heel and started walking toward the road, your footsteps crunching against the gravel. Drew scrambled after you.

“Wait! You can’t just storm off into the wilderness!” he called.

“Watch me,” you shot back, not breaking stride.

“Y/N,” Drew said, his voice dropping into a softer, coaxing tone. “Come on. You don’t want to leave me here all alone, do you?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said, turning around to glare at him. “I’m sure you can charm the forest animals into helping you out.”

Drew stopped in his tracks, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Finally, he sighed and threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. You win. I screwed up.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Go on.”

“I’ll admit,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn’t think this through. I was trying to be... I don’t know, spontaneous? Adventurous?”

“Well, congratulations,” you said dryly. “You’ve succeeded in creating the most chaotic adventure of all time.”

Drew chuckled softly, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of guilt. “I’ll fix it. I promise. Just... don’t walk away, okay?”

You sighed, the fight draining out of you as his expression softened. “Fine,” you said reluctantly. “But if we get eaten by a bear, I’m haunting you.”

“Deal,” Drew said, grinning. And despite everything, you found yourself smiling back—just a little.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx #obx x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron request #rafe cameron season 4 #drew starkey fanfiction #starstruck

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night-dazai · 1 year ago

Text

Random thoughts on Nanami Kento :

This perfect husband material is nothing but respectful, careful and soft with you . Waking up you get a kiss “ good morning “ in the morning voice making you wet in an instant.

Going out for the office “ bye love “ again a kiss on the forehead and lips (might be steamy but mostly he has good control )

Little texts whenever he is free “ How are you feeling ?” are you alright, ate lunch ?”

“Gojo is getting on my nerves i need someone to hold me back from killing him “ and more.

If you come home later than him you are always welcomed with the lovely smell of home cooked lavish meal “Welcome love freshen up let's eat “ his face stoic but adored with a little smile which you know is only for you!

If he comes later than you you welcome him with the same, if cooking is not your strong point it ends with both of you cooking dinner together (mostly he does you are an assistant ).

After dinner, it is always with you both enjoying your alone time with TV or a nice cup of hot milk and conversations about your day. Or there are times he comes homes all pent up and fucks you the moment his eyes see you.

Loves cafe dates with you day or night not matter if he can have you dress up and come out, loves seeing you getting ready and has amazing taste in clothing. (his tie is just for fun he did not wear it in his office )

The gentleman who is known till 9 pm vanishes and is replaced with a monster who is a pathetic beggar for your pussy “ pleasee let me eat you out pleaseee” his fox eyes pleading with you holding your legs apart.

His tongue is so skilled he makes sure every night you come at least twice or thrice on it before he fucks you with his cock .

His strong arms hold you down while he fucks you in missionary slowly but can go fast on your command. His moments are ruled by your words “Tell me princess what should I do “ he asks panting drilling his cock deep into your cunt as your cry out telling him to make a mess out of you.

Never says no to any kink open to all, being the simple man he is he does not have many kinks ….STOPP.

This man is a walking sex symbol, soo into BDSM, having you tied, whipping you you name it it's in his kink book he is not a simple man and open to all, he is just so much more kinker than you, you kinks are little request to him .

He can fuck you anywhere and everywhere, always takes consent and role plays with him are soo good, teacher-student, master-slave you name it its done princess~

After fucking the life out of you or slow sensational love making the first thing that comes out of his mouth is “ you okay ? “ “ need anything ? “ . Again your words are his command bath, done warm with bath bombs, and water, ready, want to just sleep, no worries he has a cloth next to the nightstand wipes you a little and holds you close in his arms watching your face relax as you fall into a deep slumber “ thank you and love you “ he mumbles kissing your eyes he might fall asleep looking at you or if there is work he has to do its done now .

His worry that you would worry if he would come home or not every day kills him yet he tries to be on time , messages you if he cannot come always keeps in touch with you and loves you just for the mere fact you love a man like him who might die anytime any day, you are his light source in his dark monotonous life.

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baekhyunsbestie · 3 months ago

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Are your requests open ? If so can you do What it's like having baekhyun as your husband ?

hubsand!baekhyun is the absolute sweeeeetest 😭🥹💘💞💓💖💗 (these r all facts btw bc it’s me i'm his wife n can confirm everything below is true) — gets nsfw under the cut!!!

✶ a menace, but he's your menace – baekhyun is the type of husband who makes life feel like a never ending sleepover. he teases you endlessly, whether it’s stealing your food mid bite, tickling your sides when you’re focused on something, or singing exaggerated love songs about you in the most ridiculous voices just to see you roll your eyes. but you can always tell—it’s adoration disguised as mischief.

✶ clingy, always touching you – always finding a way to touch you no matter what you’re doing. cooking? expect a back hug with his chin resting on your shoulder, swaying you side to side like a lovesick puppy. movie night? forget personal space—he’s pulling you straight into his lap, arms wrapped tight like you might float away. even the tiniest moments don’t escape him. passing each other in the hallway? forehead kiss, no second thought. like this man just needs to be touching you, even if it’s something as small as hooking his pinky around yours. it's like you’re his personal source of oxygen, and ofc he wouldn’t have it any other way.

✶ insists on a goodnight ritual – no ifs, ands, or buts. it’s something sweet and silly, maybe a very specific order of forehead, cheek, and nose kisses or a whispered “i love you even more than yesterday” before bed. and if you ever try to skip it? oh, he’s pouting. full on, arms crossed, huffing dramatically until you give in and make it right. he swears he just can’t sleep without it. and honestly? neither can you.

✶ the most competitive lil shit alive – you really thought just cus you're married, he'd mellow out? LMAAAOOOO nope. board games? video games? who can finish their drink first? it’s all a competition, and he has to win. and if he doesn’t? suddenly, you cheated. somehow. even if you’re playing something as foolproof as rock-paper-scissors. and don’t even think about beating him at mario kart unless you’re ready for war.

✶ loves when you wear his clothes – like actually forgets how to function for a second. his oversized hoodies? his t shirts drowning you? yeeeaaah, he’s obsessed. he’ll pause whatever he’s doing just to admire you, eyes shining with pure smugness before he pulls you into his arms, all warm and satisfied. “jeeeeez. you just love smelling like me, don’t you?” he teases, grinning because he knows he’s being insufferable. (and yes, he’s definitely smirking. yes, he’s eating this shit up.)

✶ has made it his personal mission to find you the cutest, most random little trinkets – ever since you mentioned liking them, he’s been on the lookout everywhere he goes. he could be out running errands and spot a tiny keychain shaped like a strawberry and immediately think, yep, that’s for my baby. now you have a growing collection of the most useless but ridiculously adorable knick knacks, all because he saw them and thought of you.

✶ dramatic when he misses you - gone for two days and acting like he’s been stranded on a deserted island for years. sends you voice messages full of exaggerated sighs, texts “i miss you” every hour on the dot, and makes you pinky promise you won’t forget about him while he’s away. but the second he’s home? he’s tackling you onto the couch, clinging onto you like a koala, whining about how unbelievably heartless you were for making him suffer this long.

✶ marriage does not mean he’s letting up – in fact, it’s only made him worse. if you thought slipping a ring on your finger would slow him down, think again. baekhyun still flirts like he’s trying to seduce you for the first time, still backs you up against the counter just to murmur the filthiest things in your ear, his breath warm, his voice all silk and sin. and then he just walks away, leaving you flushed, thighs pressed together, and completely at his mercy.

✶ has no shame about needing you – when he wants you, you’ll know. doesn’t matter if you’re busy, he’s sliding in next to you, fingers already tracing slow, lazy patterns up your thighs. his head rests heavy on your shoulder, lips brushing your ear as he murmurs, “baby, i’m so fucking hard it hurts… fix it for me, yeah?” and if you even think about ignoring him? oh, he only gets bolder—hands wandering, voice dropping, teasing you until you give in just the way he likes.

✶ teases you just to see you get impatient – drags it out just to watch you squirm—he loves making you unravel. slow, so agonizingly slow, barely touching, just enough to make you whine, to make you crave. his lips brush your ear, voice dripping with amusement as he whispers, “hmm? what's wrong, baby? not enough for you?” like he doesn't already know the answer, like he isn't enjoying every second of your frustration.

✶ talks you through it – bc if there’s one thing this fucker loves, it’s running his mouth. and in bed? oh, he’s even worse. he keeps his eyes locked on you while he ruins you, voice all low and smooth as he murmurs, “you feel so good, baby,” “love watching you like this,” “yeah? you like that?” he’s greedy for every little sound you make, chasing your reactions like they’re his lifeline. and if you try to bite back your moans, try to stay quiet? yeah, good luck with that—he’ll just push deeper, go harder, until you have no choice but to give him what he wants.

✶ gets so smug when you’re needy for him – cocky grin, slow, lazy touches that never quite give you what you want. the second you’re the one reaching for him first? oh, he’s fucking insufferable. lips brushing against yours, teasing, barely there, his head tilting like he’s amused. “hmm? what’s this?” he murmurs, voice dripping with satisfaction. “couldn’t wait for me?” and then he just—stalls. watches you squirm, drinks in every little impatient sigh like it fuels him. “say it, baby,” he demands, voice low, lips ghosting over your skin. “tell me how bad you need me.”

✶ possessive, but in a devotional way – he doesn’t give a damn about anyone else looking, bc he knows you’re his. but when he’s got you to himself, when he’s showing you exactly what that means, that’s when it gets dangerous. his grip on your waist turns bruising, his breath hot against your ear as he drags you closer, voice thick with need as he mutters, “mine. every inch of you. every fucking part of you—mine.”

✶ fucks you like he’s obsessed, like he can’t believe you’re real – like he’d drop to his knees just to taste you if you asked. he never shuts up, either, murmuring filthy praise between ragged breaths, telling you how fucking gorgeous you are, how tight, how warm, how you were made for him. even when he’s fucking you rough, when his fingers dig in hard enough to leave bruises, there’s that same reverence in his voice—like he’s been aching for this all day, like he exists just to make you cum, like nothing else in the world matters except the way you fall apart for him.

✶ lives for aftercare just as much as he lives for wrecking you – bc as much as he teases, as much as he pushes, he’s even softer when it’s over. he gathers you up in his arms, pressing slow, lazy kisses all over your face, whispering sweet nothings like he didn’t just have you trembling beneath him. “aw, was i too rough, baby?” he murmurs, fingers tracing over every mark he’s left. “lemme make it better, yeah?” and he does—tending to you with warm hands and soft words, like he’s making up for every filthy thing he just did to you.

#💌#anonie #AAAHHH THIS IS SO FUCKN LATE OMG IM SO SOOO SORRY NONNIE BABIE PLS FORGIVE ME ILYSM #BUT ALSO LIKE….. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH WRITING THIS MADE ME SO SOFT N FERAL AT THE SAME TIME #PLSSLEKEKWOSKLS #husband!baekhyun #baekhyun #baekhyun smut #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun headcanons #exo smut #exo x reader #exo scenario #exo headcanons #hc #lisawrites

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avianyuh · 26 days ago

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DK as a boyfriend

His personality is the sun baby from teletubbies

I'm just kidding, that was me letting an intrusive thought win...

No but seriously, Seokmin is a ball of sunshine

(ps. I'm gonna be using DK and his actual name Seokmin interchangeably)

When you met, believe it or not, he might be a little shy around you.

Mainly because he thinks you're cute and he becomes hyper aware of how loud he is and how his energy is always at 100%

Basically, he doesn't want to scare you off.

But when you guys get to know each other.

And when he gets comfortable...

Prepare for a lot of screaming.

Btw, remember that he's technically an introvert (INFP)

***(introvert doesn't equal shy. introvert just means you have a social battery and it drains faster. the only way to recharge is to spend some time alone or be around people you're comfortable with. so yeah, DK is loud and happy and goofy at times, but remember he's probably at his most comfortable around the other members because they're all his brothers. they all understand each other and know each other's limits.) okay, explanation over.

But also a lot of hysterical laughing.

DK is the boyfriend that rolls on the floor with you while you both laugh to the point you have tears in your eyes.

And it's all because he made some stupid joke or threw something and didn't catch it in enough time.

Or he stubbed his toe and hit a high note.

Like, anything with him is comedy gold.

He's your happy pill, your personal source of sunshine and positivity.

But I feel like he could always see right through you

And once you're a couple, it'd be his sole mission to make sure that he keeps you happy and energized.

And your mood really influences his mood.

If you're having a bad day, that in turn makes him sad and though he tries to cheer you up, if that doesn't work, he gets upset knowing you're down about something.

It's really sweet. Then you pull yourself out of your rut to try to get DK happy again, which doesn't take much effort.

Would kill at karaoke.

I feel bad for whoever goes against him unless you're Seungkwan or Mariah Carey...

Definitely would sing you to sleep.

Honestly, would just constantly be singing.

Around the house, in the shower, in the car, literally anywhere.

And you tease him for it and call him a show off, which he scoffs at but you always see that smile he tries to conceal by looking down trying to cover his mouth.

Type of bf to send you deep text messages on a random Tuesday night at 10:53 pm

I think Seokmin would know pretty early on if you were a good match for him or not.

Do you make him happy?

Is he crazy about you?

And if he answers yes, then he's made up his mind.

So you'd probably meet the members, his family and friends early on.

I see him wanting a private relationship.

Just wants to protect you and the best way to do that is by not outright publicizing it.

Low key romantic because he's protective, ya know?

*yes, I'm using the iconic robe photo, YOUR WELCOME*

Shmexy shtuff🥵:

Hmmm

First of all, I know he's not the type to be shirtless but I just KNOW that man has a nice ass body. Like, have you seen his arms????He works out so, bedroom action with this man will be great.

like... look at those arms😫👇

I don't see DK as the type to do anything crazy in the bedroom

Probably a vanilla kinda dude

I could see him as the type to play music and get really attentive

I said he would be the type to send long, deep text messages

So, I think he'd be really into pillow talk

Long story short, I don't think DK is for the freaks...

~~~

{A/N: Uh...Heyyyyy. Wow, this is awkward. Soooooo, I've been gone for like two months. Really sorry about that guys. I had taken a short break from writing for awhile due to schoolwork. I know I say that a lot though. Yeah, headcanons don't make up for a lack of stories but this has been sitting in my drafts since January so I thought I'd finally finish it. The other thing is my writers block when it comes to fanfics. I had ideas but found it hard to find an idol to pick and envision for the story, idk if that makes sense. It's almost the end of my semester, I have finals coming up and I really miss writing on Tumblr. Side note; I've been listening to a lot of EXO and Got7 lately. It's been so much fun because I used to be a huge ahgase and exo-l back in middle and high school. Python is such a good song btw. I know someone had asked if I'd write for Got7 and idk, that might be on the horizon. Also, just remembered that I never finished writing Boring, so that'll be one of my summer projects. Okay, I promise to not disappear again. Love you and mwahhhh💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋}

#seventeen dk #seventeen #dk #seventeen reactions #seventeen headcanons #dk x reader #seventeen as boyfriends #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt fanfic #seventeen x reader #lee seokmin #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #svt scenarios

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bencallins · 3 months ago

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So— as some of you may be aware, I was harassed quite badly on here a few nights ago. It was trans-targeted hate by what was either a bot, or a very bored incel from reddit or something.

Anyway, a lot of the claims made by whoever this account belongs to were very serious, and I just wanted to come on here and clarify that it was all untrue/fake/made up. I take these topics very seriously, and all things this user accused me of were sourced from dangerous, hateful, and transphobic stereotypes spread by conservative groups to falsely disguise their hate as “concern for children’s safety”.

I won’t sit here and lie to you all. These words hurt. I put on a brave face, and I laugh it off in the moment, but I can’t stress enough how horrible it feels to have your name, your sense of self, your joy just ripped apart by some random user on the internet. And now- thanks to that person- I’m afraid that some of the horrible things this person accused me of will show up next to my name when someone tries to google me.

I hope that nothing of the sort happens, but I can’t be sure that it won’t.

Anyway, I want to say thank you to those who sent me support those oncoming days after the event. <3 seeing those messages and texts genuinely meant and means the world to me. So thank you all. Seriously.

I’m sending you all love, and support. Especially to my trans siblings out there. Things are scary right now, but we will get through it. Their era of hate can’t last when we have so much love to give. ❤️

#tdp terry #the dragon prince #benjamin callins #tdp fandom #tdp #claudia tdp #terry tdp #tdp spoilers #terrestrius #the dragon prince season 4

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tryingtofindava · 10 months ago

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What about Kate with a cannibal reader?

─𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐥! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐩𝐭 𝟐) *ೃ༄

(Includes: Kate the Chaser, Jane the Killer, X-Virus and Clockwork.)

: ̗̀➛Back to source

Part 1

╰┈➤ 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

She’s a funny one when it comes to your craving of human flesh…

She cares, but doesn’t at the same time??

If you act different when you’re hungry, she’ll probably get something for you to munch on.

It’s sweet honestly, she treats you like a hungry Victorian boy from the 1600s.

You’ll never hear her opinion on your habits. So you have no idea how she feels about it.

╰┈➤ 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

INTENSE JUDGMENT.

Jane stands for justice, revenge, and protecting the innocent. So this hits a moral nerve hard.

Yet still has a little stash for both you and Jack. Not because she supports. Because she cares that her comrades are thriving in their environment at the mansion.

But!!! if your victims were abusers, or creeps?

She takes a long pause. Well, as long as it’s JUST horrible people…

Might keep a VERY close eye on you afterward though. Like, moral watchdog girlfriend energy.

Unlike Nina who would make the human meat up to your standards. Jane would have none of that, you get what your given.

“You were starving weren’t you? So eat.”

She doesn’t have time for you being fussy with food, you’ll eat what she provides.

And if you don’t like how she goes about it, get your food yourself.

╰┈➤ 𝐗-𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐮𝐬

Finds it interesting cause he’s a weirdo like that…

He will ask if you wanna try his human experiments, in the name of science of course.

Of course only the ones that he’s… 99% sure won’t kill you or make you ill. Not that you can die anyways, being a proxy and all.

But he will keep tabs on you if you do try his lab rats (humans).

“How’d you feel? What does it taste like? How many fingers am I holding-“ blah, blah, blah, blah.

╰┈➤ 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤

She stumbles across you mid-bite and just… smiles slowly.

“Wow. You’ve been holding out on me, huh?”

Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. If anything, she looks interested. So you eat humans, what’s the big deal? Her moral compass is VERY questionable.

She’d definitely get you snacks, an arm or thigh maybe, depends on how she’s feeling.

“Thought this chicks calves looked tasty. Brought you a souvenir.”

As much as she loves getting you your food, she’d find it hot if she went with you to get it.

Something about you biting into someone neck, man… I dunno. (She’ll ask when it’s her turn…)

She’d probably text you random shit like: ‘Hey babe, you hungry cause I’m going out.’

Without context to her messages anyone would find it sweet.

(Guess who’s back from the dead lolz…)

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x female reader #kate the chaser x y/n #kate the chaser x you #kate the chaser x reader #kate milens x reader #jane the killer x reader #jane richardson x reader #jane the killer x y/n #Cody creepypasta x reader #x virus x reader #clockwork x reader #clockwork x you #natalie ouellette x reader #creepypasta Natalie x reader #Natalie ouellette x fem reader

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crackedpumpkin · 1 year ago

Text

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟎𝟒 |

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

The sound of rapid tapping fills the air, gradual annoyance settling in. You lift your head, looking directly at the source. A random student sitting nearby in the cafe you’re in has her head bowed, her gaze fixed on a textbook as her fingers tap away on the table’s glass surface.

Sighing, you look away and take another sip of your ice latte, letting the familiar taste cool your temper down. Initially, you were supposed to go to the dentist, but they cancelled at the last minute due to an emergency. Instead of lounging around at home, you decided to go and finish your assignment.

Now though, you wish you’d picked a better spot. Moving away wasn’t an option, considering how big the crowd had gotten for the lunch rush. A glance at the clock above the cashier counter reveals that you have only an hour left before heading to Papa’s Cakeria.

Another glimpse at the quiet phone on your table draws an irritated frown from you. Since last night, Cole hasn't messaged back at all about how exactly he was supposedly going to ‘help’ you rush the order. You’d texted him again, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to send another follow-up one.

Directing your irritation and energy back to the half-completed essay on your laptop screen does help with productivity, and you find that between sips of your coffee and music blasting through your headphones, breezing through it is easy.

Another ten minutes before you have to leave.

That time is spent texting Melody whose replies are filled with questions about Cole. You can’t really blame her for being so curious, especially after you’d dropped such a bomb so nonchalantly the other night. You’re not entirely sure if you’ve even finished processing this fact either.

What would this mean for you? Would the universe really force you two together?

You know nothing about him.

This realisation makes you pause, the straw of your drink halfway to your lips. Exhaling softly, you place it back down, absentmindedly beginning to pick away at the skin of your thumb.

The most you know is that he’s the Earth Ninja, likes cakes and pastries and that he’s terrible at replying to texts. Is this the guy that’s supposed to be your soulmate? Seriously?

The door closes behind you with a loud chime to signal your exit, having packed up all your stuff earlier and discarding the now empty cup.

“Hey!” Your soulmate greets you, strolling toward you with his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants. A cap adorns his shaggy black hair, shielding his face from any strangers who might recognise him as one of the ninjas.

He stops in front of you with a friendly tilt of his head. “What’re you doing here?” You ask, taking a wary step back and eyeing his getup. He holds up his wrist, checking his watch before raising his eyes to meet yours.

“Well, you said 2 pm, right?” Blinking once, twice, even three times doesn’t help in processing the fact that he’s here. “C’mon,” he gestures for you to follow, already heading into the crowd.

“Wait,” You move to catch up to his fast pace, noticing how he’s slowed down for you to walk at a more comfortable pace. “Is this why you asked me what time I’d be heading down?” He doesn’t answer the question, merely shrugging in response. A tinge of annoyance bites down at the edges of your temper, but you quickly snuff it out at the thought of pastries.

“You could’ve just told me,” You point out when it suddenly hits you that your bag is resting on his shoulder. “When did- How…?” Your reaction elicits laughter from him, his eyes filled with mild amusement.

“You handed it to me earlier when I offered.” Now that he mentions it, you vaguely recall his outstretched hand waiting for your bag, and you’d handed it to him as if it were second nature. Your lips curl into a wince, trying not to let embarrassment flush your cheeks.

“Right, thanks.” Credit where credit is due, you suppose. It was pretty nice of him to do so. However, what scares you the most in this situation isn’t the fact that you’re both heading to the same place together. No, it’s not that at all.

It’s how easily you trusted your belongings with him.

Biting down on your bottom lip helps to suppress the mild panic that flutters uneasily in your guts, the pain replacing it. “So, is this what you meant by helping me ‘speed the order up’?” You ask, air quotes not going unnoticed by him.

He hums in thought, tilting his head to the side. Some lint on his shirt sleeve catches your eye, quickly brushing it off of him before he notices. “Well, I figured that since I have the day off and everything, I’d introduce you to the owner. Makes things easier in case I’m busy and you can still rush the order without me being there.”

His thoughtfulness is actually rather heartwarming. “Oh.” Here you were, being all huffy over his sudden presence that you didn’t stop to consider it's his way of being considerate. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Silence falls between you both, but this time you’re the one to break it. “It’s for my dad.” He glances down at you at the mention of your father, and you direct a small smile at him as you explain. “His birthday is coming up, and every year I alternate between baking a cake and buying one from the store. It’s kind of a tradition.”

He nods, a silent encouragement for you to keep going. “There was a time I got mad at him though, so instead of sugar I used salt. But he still ate it.” a chuckle falls from your lips, grinning at the memory.

“I get that,” He says wisely with a nod. “Once, Kai pissed me off so I asked Zane to make dinner and swapped out the pepper in his bowl for chilli powder. He had a stomach ache for a month.”

Wincing replaces the grin on your face. You can’t even begin to imagine the torture that must’ve been for Kai. That poor toilet must’ve seen unimaginable horrors… Dismissing it with a shake of your head, you catch a glimpse of the store sign that resembles that of the Google Maps image you’d used as a reference.

“Oh my god.” Before Cole could blink, you’re already pressed against the window, wide-eyed at the cakes displayed. You turn your head at the sound of his chuckle, practically buzzing with excitement to go inside.

Once you spot the amusement in his eyes, a jolt of realisation strikes your chest. Clearing your throat, you stand back up properly and place a hand on the door, pushing it open and walking inside with the little dignity you can muster.

He notes the stiffness in your gait, following you inside with a shake of his head and hiding his smile by turning away, greeting the young cashier with a nod. “Hey Cole,” She greets with a beam.

“Who’s your friend?” She asks, nodding at you curiously. “She’s pretty.”

“She’s alright,” Cole replies as soon as you part your lips to respond, stopping when he cuts you off and instantly directs a glare his way. He flinches, clearing his throat. “Is the boss in?”

She crosses her arms, the curiosity in her gaze holding strong when he doesn’t give your name. However, she lets it slide. “You know he doesn’t like being called that.” He sighs in defeat, an embarrassed tinge to his words as he corrects himself.

“Is Papa in?”

You pause, processing what you’ve just heard. He avoids looking directly at you, arms crossed and cheeks dusted red as he glares at the cashier with a scowl. The corners of your cheeks lift without your notice, smiling from ear to ear.

Charlotte (you’d finally read her name tag) hums, satisfied with Cole’s reaction. She winks at you mischievously. “I’ll go get him.” She leaves through a door with a sign marked ‘STAFF ONLY’, and you spot the various industrial-sized mixing stands and ovens before it closes behind her.

“So,” you start, moving to stand next to him. His fingers dance nervously on the countertop, avoiding your gaze at all costs. Suppressing a grin, you match his rhythm, drumming your fingers nearby.

He clears his throat, finally mustering the courage to look at you. “So…”

“I hear that the Bahamas are good this time of year.” You say airily.

His eyes widen momentarily, the tension in his shoulders easing when he realises it’s not a jab. “The Bahamas?”

“Yeah,” you reply casually with a shrug, “It’s great for camping. You should definitely visit,” you add, deliberately pausing to inspect your nails, all the while keeping a watchful eye on his reaction. “Have a little father-son bonding time.”

The amount of time it takes for him to react is nothing short of a millisecond. His lips press together, forming a thin line while his hand comes to a still on the countertop. He holds your gaze, the shared stubbornness in both of you refusing to break.

The corners of your mouth twitch, trying not to let the pure hilarity of it all get to you. Internally holding the reins tight on your composure is nothing short of keeping you from making another joke at his expense.

“For your information,” He says eventually, breaking the silence between you both. You nod continuously, encouraging him to continue so he can embarrass himself further. “He insisted. And if you ever bring this up to anyone, our deal is off.”

The threat he poses is equivalent to that of a small hamster trying to threaten a chair. This mental comparison elicits a snort from you, unable to hold back any longer. “Right,” You struggle to find the right words to say without dissolving into laughter right then and there. “Totally.”

“I mean it,” He warns, leaning against the counter with a frown. “And stop laughing! It’s not that funny!”

“You’re right, you’re right. It’s not funny.” You sober up, keeping a straight face when the door opens and Charlotte comes strolling out with an older man behind her. You lean toward him, shoulder brushing against his as your voice lowers to a whisper. “It’s hilarious.” He parts his lips with an offended gasp, only to rearrange his features into a warm smile when the man stops in front of him.

“Cole! It’s good to see you again, son.” The man you assume to be Papa hugs Cole tightly, the latter scowling at you and mouthing another silent threat before changing it into a grin once he pulls away.

Somehow, you manage to keep a straight face. Charlotte busies herself with the cashier, seemingly finished with human interaction for the day. You don’t blame her though, past experience of being a barista at a cafe is more than enough to make you vow to never go back.

“Welcome, welcome! I’m Papa Louie, but any friend of Cole’s is a friend of mine. So you can call me Papa!” He welcomes you with a chuckle, opening his arms for a hug. You hesitantly step into his embrace, awkwardly patting his back before he releases you.

“That’s right, you can call him Papa.” Your entire body stiffens, dread crawling up the cliff of your spine with its little hands digging into your skin. “Go ahead,” Cole gestures to Louie who’s already waiting with an innocent smile.

Filial piety already drums away at your heart, unable to bear the pressure of every second that passes. Finally, you relent against your own will but silently curse with every fibre of your being directed at Cole.

“It’s nice to meet you….Papa.”

The sharp inhale Cole sucks through his teeth makes your hair stand on edge, hands curling into fists. Unlike your coward of a soulmate, you meet his gaze headfirst, suppressing a glare when Papa Louie grins brightly. “What can I do for you today?”

Right. Cake. Do it for the cake. And your dad, of course. But also, cake.

“She’s here to buy a cake for her dad’s birthday, and I was hoping you’d be able to help skip the queue, given our history together.” The chef’s reaction is immediate, pure delight in his innocent smile as he grabs your hands.

“Of course, my dear! Let us organise it, especially for such a filial daughter like yourself.” He guides you over to the counter where he promptly whips out an order form, passing it to you. “And for you, half price. First order is special,” He adds with a fatherly wink.

“Thanks,” it’s the only reply you can muster, taken aback by the amount of generosity shown. Sneaking a glance at Cole who’s left you to your own devices and is now chatting to Charlotte, you notice how at ease he seems around the two of them.

“He’s a very good partner to you, I assume?”

What.

Your eyes snap back to Papa Louie’s grin. “He’s not-” The sudden weight of his hand on your shoulder makes you flinch, unable to shrug it off because of what’s at risk, but also because of his next few words.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” his voice is low, yet filled with parental affection as he looks at Cole. “The poor boy’s been through a lot.”

You part your lips, still trying to comprehend how deep this misunderstanding seems to have gotten. Instead of retorting or clarifying the situation, however, you press your lips together, looking down at the order form and scribbling down the specifics of what you want.

A shadow covers half the paper, and you look up to see Cole staring down at it. “You done yet?”

“Just finished.” Handing it back to Papa Louie, he personally settles payment while insisting that you receive the heavily discounted price. Your protests fall on deaf ears, begrudgingly accepting his kindness.

He doesn’t allow you to leave empty-handed either, passing you a parcel of cookies he claimed to be freshly baked, Cole and you are ushered out of the store by Charlotte. The ninja himself had also gotten a few tarts, probably to bring back home.

Unfortunately, you had been forced to say goodbye using the term the chef specifically likes to be called, trying to force away the pure cringe and remind yourself of the kindness he’s displayed so far.

It didn’t mean it was any less easy to do so in front of Cole, of all people.

But of course, who better to see me at my worst than my supposed soulmate?

Stepping out into the cool evening air makes the heat in your ears and neck feel more prominent than before, the door closing behind you both with a soft click. You spin on your heel to face Cole who has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“We shall never speak of this.” You state decisively, ignoring the curious stares from passersby.

“Of what?” He tilts his head with faux innocence, mischief in his gaze.

You part your lips, about to utter a retort when you think twice about it. However, there’s no way you’d let him have the last word. “Good.”

“So, what’re we having for dinner?”

“How do you feel about ramen?” Steps slowing to a halt in the middle of the street, realisation strikes. You lift your eyes to meet his curious ones, cold horror gripping your chest as it occurs to you how naturally the conversation had turned to eating together.

He lifts a brow at your blank face, waving a hand in front of you. “You there? Do you hate ramen or something? If so, why suggest it in the first place?” A frown takes over, finally noticing that something’s off. “What’s wrong?”

His genuine concern throws you off, flinching away at his outstretched hand that he’s placed on your forehead, checking the temperature. He withdraws his hand, hurt flickering across his face with a hint of frustration.

“S-sorry. I just…” Words. Where are words when you need them? “I’m just a huge ramen fan.” You finish lamely.

He exhales slowly, probably sensing that you’re not being entirely honest. You brace yourself for questions, already trying to find excuses to leave. He tilts his head, gesturing to a street nearby. “There’s a good ramen place down that way.”

As you force yourself to walk with him, you spot your bag still on his shoulders, the top of the bag of cookies neatly tucked away inside. Guilt seeps through the little cracks of your stony facade, stumbling back slightly when he suddenly turns to check on you.

“You’re paying for dinner. Take it as payment for introducing Papa to you.”

The simplicity of his words is clear-cut, but you recognise the intention behind them. The guilt from earlier melts away, finally cracking a small amused smile. Maybe he isn’t such a bad person after all. You hurry after him, watching as he slows down once you catch up. “For introducing who?”

“I identify as a feminist, so I’m legally allowed to hit you.”

“Ninjas don’t harm citizens, do they?”

“I’m off duty.”

#ninjago #lego ninjago #cole brookestone #cole brookstone x reader #cole x reader #ninjago x reader #cole ninjago #lego ninjago x reader

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harryssyndrome · 7 months ago

Text

Backstage To My Heart

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔 | 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭

Headline: “Harry Styles Seen Singing with Mystery Girl in Secluded Celebrity Spot – New Romance or Superfan?”

Late last night, Harry was spotted in a quiet, secluded area frequented by stars, outside a music studio. In a candid moment, he was seen serenading a mystery girl, with one photo capturing him wrapping his arm around her. Sources suggest she might be a devoted fan, but the cozy vibe between them is raising eyebrows. Is it just a fan encounter, or is there more behind this late-night rendezvous?

Ashley’s phone continued buzzing relentlessly, the screen lighting up with every notification, pulling her further into a waking state. She could barely keep up with the flood of messages and mentions. Her feed was full of posts from Harry’s fan accounts, their reactions an emotional whirlwind that mirrored her own confusion. The more she scrolled, the more her heart raced.

Some comments were filled with curiosity:

“Wait, who’s the girl? Is she in the industry?”

“Does anyone know her? Have we seen her before?!”

“She looks cute… maybe she’s just a friend?

“Who is she?? Why is she with Harry?!”

“Wait… was she wearing his jacket?!?!”

“Are we shipping them or nah?”

“I’ve never seen her before, maybe she’s just a fan?”

Others were filled with excitement and warmth:

“They look so cozy together! Is this a new couple alert?”

“Harry deserves someone nice. Hope she’s good to him.”

“I’m shipping them already! They’re adorable.”

“Look at how Harry is with her! He looks happy!”

“I follow her account, she’s a fan-fluencer! She’s really sweet, fr”

“They actually look cute together, don’t hate guys!”

“She’s living the dream we all wanted! Lucky girl.”

“OMG, they look so cute together!”

“I knew Harry was seeing someone! I’m so happy for him.”

“Look at how he’s holding her. If she’s the one, we better treat her right!”

But then there were the harsher, colder remarks that made her stomach churn:

“This better just be a fan. Harry wouldn’t date someone like her, right?”

“She’s not even that pretty. Harry can do better.”

“Why is he always with random girls? Another PR stunt?”

“If this is real, I’m DONE supporting him.”

“No way Harry is dating her. No. Way.”

“Can’t believe Harry’s dating some random girl, she’s probably just a fan.”

“She better treat him right, or we’ll come for her!”

“This better not be serious… Harry belongs to us!”

“Harry doesn’t usually get cozy with fans though… this could be something more!”

“This girl looks like just another clout-chaser, watch her use him for fame.”

“I’m sorry, but she doesn’t seem like Harry’s type at all. Can’t believe this is real.”

“There’s no way Harry’s into her, she’s probably just trying to get his attention.”

Ashley’s heart sank further with every swipe. It was all too much. How did it come to this? How did a simple night out with Harry, something that was meant to be private and comforting, become public fodder?

Just then, her phone pinged again, this time a direct message from Rave, brimming with excitement:

Rave:

ASHLEY!!! Are you seeing this?! You and HARRY?! Are you kidding me right now?? How did you NOT tell me?? Call me, call me, CALL ME!!

Before Ashley could even process a response, more messages flooded in:

Lila:

Babe, what is happening? Is that you with HARRY?! Are you guys together?? I’m dying right now!

Sasha:

Holy crap, I KNEW it. I knew there was something going on between you two! Spill the details!

It felt like everyone around her was spinning the narrative faster than she could catch her breath. Friends? Dating? Just a fan? Her head buzzed with the mounting pressure, her anxiety rising with each new comment.

And then, her heart skipped as she saw a text from Harry. She stared at his name on the screen for a long moment before opening the message:

Harry:

Hey, I’m guessing you’re still asleep but… call me when you wake up, okay? Don’t panic. I know things are blowing up online. I’m really sorry this is happening. I’ll try to handle it, but I want to talk to you first. It’s going to be fine, just breathe. Call me.

Her chest tightened, guilt creeping in. He’s apologizing to me? she thought, her mind swirling. She felt as though all of this was somehow her fault—that Harry, who had worked so hard to maintain some semblance of privacy in his life, was now being dragged into chaos because of her. She sighed, her fingers trembling as she re-read his message. She didn’t even know what to say to him.

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed again—her mother’s name flashing on the screen. Ashley froze. She knew this was coming; she knew her mother would have seen the headlines, the speculation. She couldn’t avoid the conversation any longer.

Taking a deep breath, she swiped to answer. “Hey, Mom…” she said, her voice soft, uncertain.

“Ashley,” her mother’s tone was careful, but it was clear she was trying to suppress disbelief. “I just saw something online. That picture of you and Harry… is it true? What’s going on? Are you two… involved?”

Ashley felt her pulse quicken. She wasn’t sure how to explain any of this, not when she was still trying to process it herself. “Mom, it’s… it’s not what it looks like,” she began, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I mean, I was going to tell you eventually, but nothing’s serious between me and Harry. We’re just friends.”

“Just friends?” her mother’s voice was skeptical now. “Ashley, I’m not one to believe everything I read online, but that picture… the way he was holding you… it doesn’t look like just friends.”

Ashley bit her lip, the weight of her mother’s words sinking in. She hadn’t exactly been honest with her mother about the closeness she’d developed with Harry. “It’s complicated, Mom. I didn’t want to bother you with it, and I… I don’t even know how to explain everything myself.”

Her mother sighed on the other end, the frustration palpable. “Ashley, you know I’m not here to judge you. But I can tell you’ve been hiding something. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because…” Ashley’s voice faltered as she searched for the right words. “Because it’s not serious. I didn’t think it was worth mentioning. Harry’s been helping me out, giving me the opportunity to work with him on music. He’s been nothing but kind. And last morning… after the news you told me about Dad and everything going on with the family… I was feeling awful.”

Her mother’s voice softened, a trace of empathy slipping in. “I know, sweetheart. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.”

“Harry was just trying to cheer me up,” Ashley continued, her voice quiet, tinged with nostalgia as memories of the night came flooding back. “He left his work in the middle even when I told him not to, but he wouldn’t listen. He made me laugh, danced around like an idiot, sang with me on the street, spinning me around in circles… It wasn’t some grand romantic gesture. He just wanted to make me feel better.”

Her mother paused on the other end, considering Ashley’s words. “So he left his work, in the middle of everything, just to make sure you were okay?” she asked, her voice steady. “Don’t you think that means something, Ashley? Do you really think he’s doing all that because you’re just friends?”

Ashley’s heart skipped at the question, her mind flashing back to the way Harry had looked at her last night, the tenderness in his eyes, the way he had been so protective. Her mother’s question hung in the air, lingering longer than she expected.

“Ashley,” her mother’s voice softened, “isn’t he the boy you used to listen to all the time? You had his posters all over your room, his merch… You practically grew up listening to him. You love him, don’t you?”

Ashley froze, her eyes widening in shock. How could her mother know? She had never told anyone about the feelings she’d harbored for Harry for so long, the quiet, private dreams she’d held onto. “Mom, I—what are you talking about?”

Her mother let out a small chuckle, though it was warm, not mocking. “I’m your mother, sweetheart. I know you better than you think. When you moved to London, you left some things behind. I found a letter you had written, one you never sent. It was about Harry. You’ve felt this way for a long time, haven’t you?”

Ashley felt a lump form in her throat. “You found that?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She hadn’t realized she’d left it behind. That letter had been something she wrote during one of her weakest moments, years ago, when she thought her feelings for Harry would never be anything more than a silly crush.

“I did,” her mother said gently. “And I kept it because I knew, one day, we’d have this conversation. I know Harry’s older than you, and maybe you’re unsure of where this is all heading, but I want you to know that if he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you. You deserve to be with someone who cares about you the way he does. If he’s willing to do all of this for you, to be there for you, don’t you think there’s a chance he feels the same way you do?”

Ashley’s mind was spinning. The thought of Harry feeling something more for her had crossed her mind a hundred times, but she had always pushed it aside, convincing herself that someone like him could never see her that way. “I don’t know, Mom… I’m not sure if he could ever feel the way I feel about him. What if it’s all in my head?”

Her mother’s voice was soft, reassuring. “Ashley, if it’s meant to happen, it will. You don’t have to force it, and you don’t have to figure it all out right now. But don’t be afraid to see where this goes. If he’s willing to go through all of this for you, then that says something, doesn’t it?”

Ashley nodded to herself, even though her mother couldn’t see it. “Maybe… but what if I’m wrong? What if I’m just reading into things?”

“You’re not wrong,” her mother said firmly. “I can see how much he cares for you. And if you’re unsure, talk to him. Be honest about how you feel. Don’t let fear keep you from something that could make you happy. I know it’s scary, but sometimes, the best things come from taking risks.”

Ashley closed her eyes, letting her mother’s words sink in. She hadn’t expected this conversation to take such an emotional turn, but it was exactly what she needed to hear.

“Thanks, Mom,” Ashley said softly. “I’ll think about it. I just… I don’t want to mess things up.”

“You won’t,” her mother replied. “Just be yourself. If he feels the same way, he’ll fight for you, Ashley. And you deserve someone who will go through everything for you, just like you’ve always deserved more than what your father and I could give each other.”

Ashley closed her eyes, letting her mother’s words sink in. The idea that Harry could possibly feel the same way… it both terrified and thrilled her. “I don’t know if he feels the same way,” she admitted softly. “I’ve never said anything… I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Her mother’s voice was gentle, understanding. “Sweetheart, if it’s meant to happen, it will. You don’t have to force anything. But if he’s willing to be there for you in the ways he already has, then maybe… just maybe, he feels more than you realize.”

Ashley sat in silence for a moment, her mind swirling with everything her mother had said. She knew she couldn’t avoid her feelings any longer. It was time to be honest—with herself, and with Harry.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said finally, her voice steady. “I don’t know what will happen, but I’ll talk to him.”

“That’s all you need to do,” her mother replied gently. “And whatever happens, remember I’m here for you. I just want to see you happy, Ashley.”

“I love you, Mom,” Ashley whispered, feeling a sense of calm wash over her.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” her mother said softly before the call ended.

“Soon”

After hanging up, Ashley stared at her phone, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath and forced herself to look at the messages again, this time with a new perspective. Maybe it was time to lean into what was happening instead of running from it. She decided to message Harry back:

Ashley:

Hey, I just saw your message. I’ll call you soon. Sorry for all of this. I’m still processing everything. Talk to you shortly!

Ashley tossed her phone onto the bed and swung her legs over the side, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. The chaos of the night before still hung in the air, but a flicker of determination began to spark within her. She realized that she couldn’t keep avoiding the reality of her feelings for Harry, especially now that they were under such public scrutiny.

She stood up and moved to the mirror, taking a moment to study her reflection. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and her eyes had that familiar mix of uncertainty and hope. With a soft sigh, she brushed her hair back and splashed some cold water on her face to clear her mind. You can do this, she thought, trying to boost her confidence.

After a few moments of self-encouragement, she paced the room, her mind racing. She needed to figure out how to approach the conversation with Harry. What would she even say? Should I confess my feelings? Or should I just focus on what’s happening in the moment?

As she continued to pace, her phone buzzed again. It was a message from Harry.

Harry:

Hey! I’m in the studio right now, but I can step out for a bit. Do you want to meet up? Just you and me?

Her heart raced at the thought of seeing him again, especially after the whirlwind of emotions she had just experienced. She took a moment to consider, knowing this could be the turning point they both needed.

Ashley:

Yes, I’d love to. Where?

Harry:

How about that little restaurant down the street? I’ll be there in 30 minutes.

Ashley quickly changed out of her pajamas into a casual yet cute outfit, settling on a soft sweater and her favorite jeans. As she looked in the mirror one last time, she felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. This is it, she thought, feeling the weight of the moment settle on her shoulders.

She made her way out of her apartment, the brisk air hitting her face as she stepped onto the street. The walk to the restaurant was filled with a jumble of thoughts. She replayed their past moments together in her mind—their laughter, the shared music, the way he always seemed to know how to cheer her up when she was feeling low. She couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same depth of emotion she had for him.

Later, Harry waited just outside the small, tucked-away restaurant. The autumn sun hung low in the sky, casting the last of its golden light across the street as Ashley arrived. She looked stunning, her hair tousled slightly by the breeze, her eyes bright, though there was a hint of tiredness behind them. Harry’s heart skipped a beat, and he felt the familiar flutter in his chest he always got when he saw her.

“Hey,” she greeted with a soft smile as she approached.

“Hey,” he replied, trying to sound casual despite the way his pulse quickened just being near her.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Me too,” she replied, taking a seat across from him. “I saw the news… and I wanted to talk.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that was becoming all too familiar. “Yeah, it’s been a bit overwhelming, hasn’t it?” He looked genuinely concerned, his eyes searching hers for any hint of distress.

“I didn’t expect everything to blow up like this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, I thought we were just having a fun night together. I didn’t think it would become public so quickly.”

Harry nodded, his expression softening. “I know. I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into this. It’s just… it’s hard to keep things private when there’s so much interest in my life.”

Ashley took a deep breath, feeling a mix of empathy and frustration. “I understand. I just… I don’t want this to ruin what we have. I don’t want you to feel like you need to protect me from all of this. It’s just… I’ve never had to deal with something like this before.”

He reached across the table, his fingers brushing against hers. “I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed. I want you to be comfortable with whatever is happening between us. If you need space, I’ll give it to you. But I also don’t want to pretend like nothing is happening.”

They stepped inside, the dim lighting immediately wrapping them in a cocoon of warmth. The restaurant had a quiet elegance about it, with dark wooden tables and soft music playing in the background. It felt intimate, almost too perfect for whatever was about to unfold between them. The kind of place where emotions couldn’t be hidden in the shadows.

They found a small table by the window, the sunlight fading as the evening set in. Harry could sense the shift in the air—the same energy that had been building between them for months now hung even heavier.

Ashley took a sip of her wine, her gaze resting on the glass for a moment before she looked up at him. “This place is really nice. How did you find it?”

Harry shrugged, trying to downplay the butterflies in his stomach. “Just one of those places you stumble across. Thought you’d like it.”

“I do.” She smiled again, but there was something more in her expression tonight. A quiet curiosity, maybe, or perhaps she was waiting for him to say something. To finally address the elephant that had been in the room between them for so long.

They talked easily for a while—about nothing in particular, work, music, life. But underneath it all, there was something pressing between them, growing with each passing moment.

At one point, Harry caught himself staring at her a little too long, his eyes tracing the lines of her face, the way her lips curved when she spoke. He quickly looked away, taking a long sip of wine to distract himself from the growing tension inside him. But it was no use. His feelings for her were too strong, too overwhelming.

Ashley must have noticed the shift in his demeanor, because she placed her glass down and leaned in slightly. “You okay? You’ve been quiet. Is something on your mind?” Her voice was soft, but there was something in her tone that made Harry’s pulse quicken.

He didn’t know how to answer her. Everything he wanted to say felt too heavy, too dangerous to voice. He was caught between the ease of their friendship and the growing intensity of his feelings for her, feelings he had tried to push down for so long.

“I’m just… thinking,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. He took another sip of wine, hoping it would steady him.

Ashley smiled, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, something that tugged at Harry’s heart. “About what?”

For a moment, Harry couldn’t breathe. He looked at her—really looked at her. The soft curve of her lips, the way her dark hair framed her face, the light in her eyes. Everything about her drew him in, made it harder to keep pretending that his feelings weren’t there, that they hadn’t been there for a long time.

And then, something inside him snapped.

Before he could think it through, before he could stop himself, Harry leaned across the table and kissed her.

It wasn’t a tentative kiss, not like before. It was passionate, fueled by the months—of unspoken feelings, the weight of everything they hadn’t said. His hand cupped her face, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer. Her lips were soft, warm, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to fall away. The taste of wine lingered between them, but it was the taste of her that consumed him.

He kissed her with everything he had—every ounce of feeling he’d buried, every moment he’d hesitated, every stolen glance, every heartbeat he’d ignored. His body pressed closer to hers, their lips moving in sync, the heat between them growing with every second.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, Harry pulled away.

Breathless, he stared at her, his heart pounding in his chest. Ashley’s eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

But then Harry saw it—a look on Ashley’s face that made his heart stop. It wasn’t shock or confusion. It wasn’t hesitation or doubt. It was something else, something deeper—an expression he couldn’t fully explain, but it was there, clear as day. She was happy. Not just happy—she was overwhelmed, like something inside her had been unlocked, something she hadn’t expected but had wanted for so long. Her eyes sparkled with joy, her lips still slightly parted from the kiss. And it was beautiful, unbelievably beautiful.

Seeing her like that, seeing her happiness so raw and unfiltered, made Harry’s chest tighten. He’d never seen her like this before. She looked as though the weight of every doubt, every insecurity, had been lifted from her shoulders in that one kiss.

But then, just as quickly, his own mind caught up to him.

What had he done? He loved kissing her. He liked her more than he could ever express. But now, the doubts flooded in like a tidal wave. What did this mean for them? Could they ever go back to what they were? And what if he wasn’t enough for her? What if being with him ruined everything for her? What if this one kiss set off a chain reaction that he couldn’t control?

His mind spiraled, the questions hitting him all at once. He had acted on impulse, and now he didn’t know where it would lead. He was terrified. What if he had just ruined everything?

Ashley was still looking at him, her eyes soft, her expression still full of the beauty of the moment, but Harry couldn’t meet her gaze for long. The turmoil inside him was too much. He had wanted this, so badly, but now that it had happened, the fear of what came next clawed at him, louder than ever.

He dropped his hand from her face, his fingers trembling slightly. His breath was shaky, his heart pounding in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Ashley didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her expression said everything—she was happy. But Harry… Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that he had crossed a line, a line he wasn’t sure he was ready for.

The silence between them was deafening, filled with everything that had just happened, with everything they weren’t saying. And as Harry sat there, staring at her, he realized that nothing between them could ever be the same again.

This version heightens the emotional intensity of the kiss while focusing on the overwhelming beauty of Ashley’s reaction and the turmoil brewing inside Harry. It ends with Harry’s internal conflict, leaving the emotional aftermath hanging between them, unresolved.

A/N: here is the beginning of all the drama🤭 see you guys tomorrow. Special thx to @daisyblog for always helping me! 🫶🏻

STORY MASTERLIST

Taglist: @prettygurl-2009 @sassamanda77 (TAGLIST OPEN)

Posted on: October 10th, 2024

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